


The Mythics

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But not that scary, Canon-Typical Violence, Elves, F/F, Fairies, Happy Ending, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Witches, sorta romantic horror comedy with some fantasy thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: Lexa and Clarke are honeymooning in the beautiful Emerald Isle when bored with the stock tour of her family's ancestral castle, Clarke goes exploring. She stumbles upon an old library, and before Lexa can stop her, she's muttering aloud in a language neither one of them speaks, unleashing an ancient family curse.Now with the help of some friends, the couple has to race against an unspeakable evil and discover how to defeat it before it destroys the world.





	1. "It’s Not English"

“Clarke!”

Lexa spun on her heel, her head whipping around trying to catch sight of her wife.

“Clarke!” she whisper-shouted again into another long and poorly lit hallway. “We’re not supposed to stray from the tour group. You know that!”

Lexa sighed and turned back towards the group of people milling about another tapestry. If she was honest with herself, she understood Clarke’s desire to sneak off and conduct her own tour of the castle. There were only so many tapestries of unicorns and coats of arms that she could look at before they all sort of bled together.

At this moment, Lexa just wished her wife would have pulled her along on this uncharacteristically impulsive adventure.

Lexa barely contained her yelp as a warm hand grasped her upper arm and tugged her around the corner she just searched not thirty seconds ago. The only reason she kept it together was the sight of very familiar blue eyes that were currently sparkling with an unusual amount of mischief.

“Hey, darlin’. Wanna see something cool?”

“Where have you been?”

“Exploring. Come on.”

Despite Lexa’s earlier internal admission of being a little on the bored side, her overwhelming desire to follow the rules and stay on the straight and narrow began to win out. Her feet remained firmly glued to the spot as Clarke attempted to tug her along the dark corridor.

“Lexa,” Clarke whined as she uselessly pulled on her hand. “I can’t show you what I found if you don’t follow me.”

“We’re not supposed to wander.”

“Technically, this is my castle. I can go wherever I please.”

“Technically, this castle belonged to the Griffin family who you share a minimal amount of DNA with.”

“Semantics.”

Lexa lasted about two seconds longer. Clarke was giving her that soft smirk that she found irresistible, and as her feet began to inch forward, that smirk turned into a full-blown, megawatt smile. Lexa mirrored her grin and let out a soft chuckle, following her blindly through the hallways. Clarke Griffin-Woods would forever be able to make her do reckless things.

“What the-”

Lexa managed to exclaim before a hand slammed against her chest, and a finger pressed to her lips silencing her. Her head ached where it collided with the solid stone, and her back tingled at the cool smoothness of the wall as Clarke peered around the corner.

She whipped back to face Lexa, her face now inches from her own, and Lexa swallowed her sudden bout of arousal. Clarke’s eyes gazed down and followed the ebb and flow of Lexa’s throat.

It didn’t take long for her finger to be replaced with soft lips.

Lexa’s hands found purchase on her wife’s hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh as they kissed in the near darkness of the medieval Irish castle.

After a few more moments, Clarke pulled back and rested her forehead on Lexa’s. “Sometimes I can’t get over how much I love you.”

Lexa leaned forward just enough to place a quick kiss to the corner of Clarke’s mouth. “I love you too, but shouldn’t we get going? Whoever was around the corner could come this way any moment,” Lexa whispered.

Clarke merely bit her lip before giving her a cheery smile.

“There was no one around the corner, was there?”

Clarke didn’t bother answering. She just pressed her whole body into Lexa, tangling her hands into long dark hair.

“You just wanted to make out,” Lexa mumbled around Clarke’s tongue. “You could have just asked. You didn’t need to push me against a rock hard castle wall.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“There wasn’t even a cool thing you wanted to show me, was there?”

Lexa regretted the words instantly as Clarke pulled away with impressive speed. “I almost forgot!”

“I can have that effect.”

Clarke balled up her fist and landed a light blow to Lexa’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

Before Lexa could retort, Clarke intertwined their fingers and tugged her around the corner. After only a minute and two quick turns down dimly lit corridors, Clarke pulled to a stop in front of a very plain, very cumbersome looking door.

“It’s just through here.”

“What is?”

“What I wanted to show you.”

Clarke stepped to the side and leaned her shoulder against the wall. She smirked and gestured for Lexa to open the door. With a slightly skeptical glance at Clarke, Lexa wrapped her long fingers around the iron handle. As soon as her skin made contact with the metal, a warmth shot up through her arm.

She almost pulled away at the sensation, but the heat was fleeting. Lexa took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

Books.

Mountains of books were piled on several sturdy wooden tables, rows of old manuscripts towered neatly on massive solid shelves. And Lexa was in heaven.

She entered the room with Clarke smirking at her heels, and Lexa’s fingers trailed along the spines of a few books she passed. The feeling was almost as good as the smell - paper and ink and leather. There was nothing else quite like it.

Lexa paused in front of a meticulously stacked display and carefully opened the topmost book. She just flipped to the title page when a soft murmur pulled her attention.

Clarke hunched over a table in the corner, muttering away in a language Lexa didn’t understand.

“Clarke?”

When she didn’t respond at all, Lexa tried again. “Clarke? What are you reading?”

Lexa took a step closer and could just make out the movement of Clarke’s left shoulder as her finger traced the foreign words she was speaking.

She placed a hesitant hand on Clarke’s arm. The touch didn’t even seem to register. She just kept muttering the words on the page. Lexa squeezed harder, took another step forward, and placed her body directly in front of Clarke.

Clarke’s eyes were huge and dark and focused solely on the text in front of her. “Hey. Hey! Clarke! What are you doing? Stop and look at me!”  
Lexa released Clarke’s arm and cupped her face with both hands, running her thumbs back and forth on her full cheeks, desperately trying to pull Clarke’s attention from the book.

“Agus síalaithe le fuil, beidh sí ag ardú.”

As soon as the final word left her mouth, Clarke’s entire body relaxed. Her eyes returned to their normal vibrant blue; her focus retrained on Lexa. Clarke smiled and grasped the hands still caressing her face.

“Hey, darlin’. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You were just completely zoned out reading that book,” Lexa finally dropped her hands and motioned wildly in front of Clarke. “We’re talking complete zombie here. You didn’t even move when I called your name or touched you.”

“What?”

“You seriously don’t remember reading that?”

Clarke leaned forward and looked down at the opened page. “It’s not English.”

“Yeah, I gathered that when you were chanting it just a moment ago.”

“I was really reading that out loud?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Lexa couldn’t have stopped the surprised chuckle even if she tried. “Cool? Clarke, I’ve seen some weird things in my life, like seriously strange things, but this was up there. Especially for you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Clarke sighed. She peered down at the text once more and traced the old words with her fingers. Lexa followed the almost reverent movement, confused by the way the page seemed to hum at the touch. “I think it’s Irish. I’ve seen it before. My dad had a few books that I’d sneak looks at when I was a kid. Maybe he taught me some, and I remembered now.”

“Maybe.” Lexa watched as Clarke closed the book and took a step backwards. Her brow furrowed as if the movement was painful, and the consecutive sharp inhale had Lexa springing forward in concern. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and took another generous step back. Too generous.

“Clarke! Watch out for the-”

Clarke toppled over the chair, her back slamming into the table behind her before her body hit the floor. Lexa slid to her side seconds later, cradling her clumsy wife in her arms.

“Ow…” Clarke grimaced as she rubbed the back of her tender head.

“There was a chair there.”

“Yes, thank you for that astute observation, jackass.”

“I’m happy to see your fall didn’t affect your ability to use sarcasm.”

“Nothing could affect that superpower. Help me up?”

Lexa smiled and pulled Clarke up to her feet. It wasn’t until she dropped her hand that she noticed the smear of blood on the floor.

“Are you hurt?” Lexa ran her hands up and down Clarke’s arms, searching for the source of blood.

“I’m fine, Lexa. See?” Clarke waved her palm in her face. A thin gash ran from the corner of her pinky to the middle of her palm, dripping blood slowly down her hand. “Just a tiny cut. Must have caught my hand on the leg of the table or something.”

Lexa pulled out the handkerchief she always kept in her purse and wrapped Clarke’s hand with practiced ease.

“I will never get over how you carry one of those around with you everywhere you go.”

“They’re useful.” Lexa tied the knot securely in place, being sure to tighten it enough to keep it from shifting, but not hard enough to draw pain. “And much prettier than a pack of tissues.”

She pulled the now bandaged hand to her lips and pressed a long kiss to Clarke’s clothed palm.

Clarke looked back at her with so much love and devotion that Lexa had to fight to stop herself from pushing Clarke up against the far wall and showing her how much she adored her back. With a soft smirk and some serious strength of character, Lexa tugged on their now intertwined hands.

“I think we’ve had enough adventure for the day. Let’s get back to the tour group.”

As the couple left the cluttered library, neither one noticed the book Clarke read close on its own. Neither Clarke nor Lexa paid any attention to the streak of blood on the floor as it began to sizzle and smoke. And neither woman minded the gust of wind that blew past them, causing their hair to float on the breeze. Old castles often were terribly drafty places after all.


	2. “Chupacabra, Jersey Devil, Wendigo”

“Can you stop making a mess of my kitchen? I just cleaned it like yesterday.”

Anya slowly lowered the tomato sauce covered spoon in her hand as she turned, staring daggers in her cousin’s direction. “Pardon me for wanting to surprise you. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in weeks. How is the honeymoon phase, by the way? As salacious as advertised, or has that fire died since your return to the real world?”

Despite Anya’s generous eye roll and crossed arms, Lexa closed the distance in a flash and wrapped her up in a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

Anya returned the hug but shrugged out of it with a huff. “No need for the dramatics. You were barely gone for two weeks.”

“You’re the one who snuck into my house to make me a surprise dinner. What are we having?” Lexa smirked before sitting on the barstool in front of their kitchen island and surveyed the mess of ingredients and cookware tossed about. Tomatoes, garlic, mozzarella, basil, mixing bowls, and measuring cups were strewn over every counter, and a light dusting of flour covered Anya and the countertops.

“Are you making my favorite? Margherita pizza?”

“And don’t make me regret it,” Anya waved the wooden spoon at Lexa like a weapon. She waited for Lexa to retort, but when Lexa merely shrugged off her suit coat and folded it neatly on the back of the stool, Anya turned her attention to the simmering sauce. “So, how was Ireland?”

“Enchanting, green, and fairly wet.” Hearing the last bit of that sentence out loud, Lexa blushed and rushed out a quick explanation. “It rained more than half the time we were there.”

Anya turned from her pot of sauce, raised one very disbelieving eyebrow, and Lexa couldn’t resist. “Although there were other wet things too.”

“You just had to say that out loud, didn’t you?” Anya grimaced.

“With that look you just gave me? Yes. Yes, I did.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Anya busied herself with rolling out the freshly risen dough and assembling the pizzas. She didn’t even glance up when she asked, “Did you tell her?”

Lexa’s chest rose and fell grandly as she remembered exactly what she declined to tell her new bride. The guilt pooled deep in her belly, and when she was about to admit her failings, a cheery voice broke through the tense atmosphere.

“Tell who what?”

Clarke stood in the doorway and neatly hung her coat on the hook before walking into the kitchen. Lexa gave Anya a desperate pleading look, and although Anya glowered at her, she knew she’d have her back.

“I was just asking my lovesick cousin here if she told you how utterly smitten she is with you. It’s only gotten worse since you two made it all legal with the paperwork.”

Clarke looked from Anya to Lexa and back again, and Lexa knew her perceptive wife did not buy Anya’s lie for a second. But just before Clarke was undoubtedly about to call their bullshit, Anya wiped her hands on a towel and offered Clarke a stiff hug. “Hello, Clarke.”

Lexa’s whole body sighed in relief with the perfectly timed distraction, and she bit back a chuckle when Clarke squeezed Anya extra hard and extra long just to annoy her cousin.

“What are you doing in our kitchen?” Clarke finally released Anya and surveyed the disarray splayed over their counters. “Besides making a mess of things?”

“I swear I will never try to do a nice thing for you both ever again.” She turned to add the finishing touches to her pizzas, but when she did, her hip nudged the counter, sending Clarke’s newly procured souvenir teetering perilously.

“Hey!” Clarke shouted, diving for the beautifully etched shot glass. “Don’t break my glass!”

“What?” Anya spun around and gently steadied the glass on the counter. “Relax, it wasn’t in any danger. Why’s it so special, anyway?”

Clarke snatched it off the counter and placed it lovingly in the cabinet. “I got it at Castle Griffin,” she clarified as she gingerly closed the door. “It has my family crest on it. It’s cool.”

Anya shot Lexa a quick, confused look, but all Lexa could do was smile at her endearingly cute wife. With a huff, Anya turned back to her pizzas, and in the few seconds her back was turned, Clarke closed the distance between them and pressed a leisurely hello kiss to Lexa’s lips.

“Oh, for crying out loud, stop making out in front of me!”

Lexa let her lips linger for a moment before peering over Clarke’s shoulder. “Now who’s being dramatic? It was just a hello kiss.”

“A hello kiss with Clarke straddling your lap and… noises.”

Clarke’s shoulders slumped, and her body weight collapsed into Lexa for a brief moment before she stood up. She planted a hasty kiss to the tip of Lexa’s nose and turned with her hands up in a shrug. “I can’t be held responsible for my actions when I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Damn, Griffin. What-”

Clarke held up her still bandaged hand and silenced Anya before correcting her. “Griffin-Woods.”

“Fine,” Anya scowled before plastering a ginormous grin on her face that managed to be cheery and menacing at the same time. “Damn, Griffin-Woods. What the hell did you do to your hand?”

“Just a little accident on our last day,” Clarke waved her off.

“What happened?” Anya crossed the room and took Clarke’s hand in her own. The worry in her eyes was glaringly obvious, and Lexa’s chest swelled with the realization that despite Anya’s prickly demeanor and near-constant teasing of Clarke, she truly cared.

As if Anya could read Lexa’s mind, she dropped Clarke’s hand and flew to the oven to check the pizzas.

“So, what happened?” Anya repeated.

“Clarke fell over a chair and into a table while illegally sneaking around a library she found in the Griffin family castle.”

Clarke shot a withering look over her shoulder while Anya just nodded at Lexa.

“I gotta admit, Griffin-Woods. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither did she, I’m sure,” Lexa chuckled.

Clarke whirled around with a very threatening finger pointed in Lexa’s direction. “Oh, you shut up. It’s not like you’re the world’s most graceful person alive. Have you forgotten that time we were walking on the street, and you ran face-first into a stop sign? Or how about when you literally walked through a glass door?”

Lexa flushed red and shrunk down into the stool as Clarke continued to stroll down an impressively detailed memory lane recounting Lexa’s many misfortunes. With each tale Clarke described, she stepped closer and closer to Lexa. When she was standing right in front of her once again, she leaned down and whispered quiet enough for only her to hear.

“Or that time in college when you tried to dismount from my face, misjudged the width of your tiny ass bed and fell into your desk butt naked?”

Lexa should have been thoroughly embarrassed, she really should have been, but the devilish look in Clarke’s eyes and the way she bit her bottom lip had Lexa flushing for an entirely different reason.

“Can you two stop being disgustingly in love long enough to eat the dinner I’ve been slaving away over for the past forty-five minutes?”

Clarke stood up straight with a triumphant grin and cocked an eyebrow. “I think I can give it a go,” she called over her shoulder to Anya and, with an innocent smirk, faced Lexa. “How about you?”

“I’m up for a challenge.”

“I can’t believe I missed you two morons,” Anya mumbled under her breath as she pushed past them to set the table.

*******

“What are you doing?”

Lexa set the soaked but clean pizza stone on the stove to dry. “Cleaning the kitchen. As per usual, Anya left it a mess.”

“You’ve been doing that for hours!” Clarke groaned from her little nest on the couch, but Lexa wasn’t phased and started scrubbing the saucepan.

“I’ve been cleaning for five minutes.”

“Come over here.”

“I just want to finish this first.” Lexa looked up from her task and shook her head at her adorably dramatic wife sprawled out in the living room in exasperation. “You have my hoodie and my blanket. What more do you want from me?”

“Hurry up and finish, and maybe you’ll find out,” Clarke cooed with that deep, husky tone that drove Lexa to do nearly whatever that voice demanded.

She finished rinsing the final plate and placed it in the dishwasher before hurrying to the couch. Clarke reached a hand from the depths of her blanket cocoon and tugged Lexa down. She nuzzled her head on her chest and sighed when Lexa ran her fingers up and down her back.

“This is it? You just wanted snuggles?”

“Mmm,” Clarke hummed and burrowed her face deep into Lexa. “You smell nice. And you’re cozy. And warm. Why are you always so warm?”

“I just run a little hotter than the average person.”

“I know,” Clarke nodded, and while Lexa couldn’t quite see the full smirk, she could feel those cheeks flex against her chest.

They sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying the warmth and serenity of the moment. The music played softly in the background, and the subtle way Clarke’s body moved against her as she breathed soon lulled Lexa to near sleep.

“Did you deadbolt the door when Anya left?”

Lexa kept her eyes closed and muttered a quiet, “Yeah.”

“Good. No interruptions.” Clarke threw the blanket off her legs and straddled Lexa’s lap so quickly Lexa barely had time to open her eyes fully. Hands tangled into her long hair, lips danced against her own, and the tranquility of the past was lost to the lust of the present.

Lexa wrapped her fingers around the hem of the college soccer hoodie Clarke wore and began to slide the worn soft cotton over heated skin.

BANG!

The front door slammed open startling them both up off the couch.

“I thought you said you locked the door?”

“I did. Stay here.” Without waiting for Clarke to answer, Lexa strode softly towards the wide-open front door. The breeze from the chilled autumn night tickled her skin, and goosebumps danced down her spine.

The door itself hung innocently open. No splintered doorjamb, no broken locks. Just open.

Lexa peered out into their quiet neighborhood, eyes searching for any sign of movement. She took one step outside their home when a presence pulled her to a stop.

“I told you to stay in the living room.”

“Like I’m going to let you investigate a strange noise by yourself,” Clarke stopped next to her. “You’ve seen the horror movies. That never turns out well.”

“This isn’t a horror movie.” Lexa shook her head and continued on into their front yard. The trees bristled in the breeze casting eerie shadows on the ground as Lexa peered behind their rose bush to find nothing but dirt and leaves.

“I’m still not letting you do this alone.”

Lexa smirked over her shoulder, “I’m stronger than I look.”

“This is no time for a hero complex.”

“Hero complex?” Lexa bit back her laugh. “What the hell do you think we’re going to find out here?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke kicked at a protruding tree root. “Burglar, peeping tom, ghost, witch, chupacabra, jersey devil, wendigo… Spider.”

“A spider?”

“You never know.”

“I’m so glad you’re here to protect me from the big bad spider.”

“Darlin’,” Clarke smirked. She wrapped her arms around Lexa’s waist and pulled her close. The heat of her body and firmness of her grip sent a whole new bout of goosebumps cascading down Lexa’s spine. “I’ll protect you from anything.”

Lexa willingly draped her own arms around Clarke’s neck and leaned in.

“Holy fucking fuck shit!” Clarke screeched at the sudden sound of a door slamming inside their home. She instantly removed her hands from Lexa’s waist and cowered behind her, effectively putting Lexa in between the noise and herself.

“What happened to you protecting me from anything?”

Clarke intertwined her clammy hand with Lexa’s, still hiding perfectly behind her. “You dated me for years and married me. You should be able to pick up on my romantically charming and chivalrous embellishments by now.”

Lexa wanted to laugh and banter with her startled wife, but another odd noise caught her attention. The sound of scratching on wood was as unmistakable as the stupidity of her desire to investigate it.

“Clarke, stay right here,” Lexa turned to face her anxious wife. “Listen to me this time. Please.”

“You’re scaring me a little. Shouldn’t we just call the cops?”

“I don’t think we need to. Just stay here. Only for a moment. Promise?”

“I promise,” Clarke nodded. Lexa leaned in for a quick kiss, and just as she was about to head into the house, Clarke grabbed her hand and turned her around.

Clarke’s soft blue eyes narrowed, her jaw set and Lexa recognized the beginning of a rant.

“But if you’re gone for more than two minutes, I’m calling the cops and then running in after your adorably brave ass. And I better not find you dead on the floor with a demon standing above you holding an ornate ceremonial dagger about to carve some grotesque devil language into your perfect skin because if I do, I will kill your already dead body with my bare hands before going all batshit crazy on the demon and sending his ugly face straight back to the seventh circle of hell.”

“If I weren’t so impressed with that detailed description, I’d be a little concerned you were watching too much _Wynonna Earp_ ,” Lexa paused to tuck a strand of windblown hair back behind Clarke’s ear. She let her fingers brush against Clarke’s cooled cheek and rest there a moment. Just a simple, warm, reassuring touch used to ease the troubled heart in front of her.

“I’ll be right back.”

As Lexa crossed the threshold into their house, she heard a mumbled, “You’re not supposed to say that in a horror movie!” She shook her head and fell just a little bit more in love with that dork of a woman.

The grin she sported disappeared more and more the farther she got inside. Lexa took deliberate steps, careful to make as little noise as possible. She reached her ears into their still home, searching for the strange scratching she heard moments before. As she made her way into the living room, a hair-raising sight stopped her dead in her tracks.

The back door was open. And there was something etched deep into the solid wood door.

Lexa did a quick scan of the backyard, and when nothing seemed out of the ordinary, she leaned in to examine the carving. She ran her fingers along the new crevices, tracing the unfamiliar dashes as she went.

The whole thing took up about a foot, and while the markings made little sense to her, it was clear each line had a purpose. There was a rhythm to it. Almost like a pattern or a language.

“Lexa? Lexa, are you okay?” Clarke’s voice cut through Lexa’s thoughts like a hot knife through butter. “Do I need to call the cops?”

“It’s alright. I’m coming back.”

Lexa turned from the odd etching and was almost to the front door when a familiar body collided with her own. Clarke wrapped Lexa in a tight embrace, her breath tickling the little hairs on Lexa’s neck as she spoke. “I’m glad a demon didn’t eat you.”

Lexa grinned and returned the hug eagerly. “I thought the demon was going to write demonic language on my skin?”

“We both know that I had no way of knowing what kind of demon it was.”

Clarke pulled away with a soft smile on her face. “Did you find anything?”

“Sort of.”

Lexa guided Clarke to the back door and pointed at the newly etched pattern.

“Who did that?” Clarke exclaimed as she leaned in for a better look.

“I don’t know. Do you recognize it? I thought it looked like a language, maybe?”

Clarke traced down the line of strange grooves with her fingers, stopping every once in a while to follow each dash that bisected the carving. “It looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”

Lexa waited for Clarke to finish her inspection, careful to keep herself on high alert. Whoever did this could still be nearby, and with that sudden realization, Lexa’s heart sped up and her palms itched. She kept glancing out the back windows before whipping her head to the front of the house. Lexa felt like a mouse trapped in a maze with no idea which way to turn to get to the damn cheese.

“Should we be in here right now? I mean, whoever did this could still be here.”

Clarke’s own confirmation of Lexa’s thoughts was all that was needed for her to grab Clarke’s hand and pull her out of their home.

“Where are we going?”

“To Murphy’s. We’ll call the police from his place and have them do a proper search of our house and the area.”

As Lexa led them across the lamplit street, she didn’t miss the way Clarke gripped her hand or the way she could practically hear her heart thudding in her chest.

Safe on Murphy’s front porch, Lexa disentangled her fingers from Clarke’s and pulled her into a comforting hug. She ran her fingers up and down Clarke’s spine, allowing the warmth to seep through her hands and into Clarke.

“It’ll be okay.”

“You’re not supposed to say that in a horror movie either,” Clarke mumbled into her chest, and Lexa could feel the stress begin to drain from her tense body. She released her, and just before she pressed the doorbell, Lexa turned to Clarke with a smirk.

“Good thing we’re not in a horror movie then.”


	3. “Scaredy Clarke”

At the creak and groan of the wooden door, Lexa exhaled in relief that their neighbor was home.

“Clarke. Lexa. To what do I owe this unexpected and unwarranted pleasure?”

Lexa sighed at the backhanded compliment, “Someone broke into our house.”

“No shit,” Murphy dropped his typical impassive face and stepped forward with alarm. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Lexa assured with a wave of her hand. “Would you mind if we waited here with you until the police come?”

“Yeah, get your asses in here,” Murphy stepped to the side and ushered them in, and Lexa smiled gratefully as he locked and dead bolted his front door behind them. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Whiskey?”

“You’re being unusually hospitable,” Lexa glared as she settled down on the leather loveseat next to Clarke.

“Your house was just broken into. I’m not heartless. But if you prefer, I can just make you wait on the porch.”

Clarke placed a warning hand on Lexa’s thigh. “Whiskey would be great.”

“That’s what I thought.” Murphy nodded and made his way into the kitchen. Over the sounds of glass clinking and ice dropping into tumblers, Lexa placed a phone call to the police as quickly as possible. She just hung up when Murphy returned with three full glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“So what do you think happened?”

“What do you mean?” Lexa asked over the rim of her glass.

“Who breaks into someone’s house at eight o’clock at night? Everyone knows that people are home then,” Murphy drawled. “Unless they wanted you to be there.”

The leather of the couch groaned as Clarke tensed with that thought. Lexa took a deep breath in through her nose, willing the fresh oxygen to calm her fire of protectiveness to only a sizzle. “Shut up, Murphy. Speculating will help no one.”

“I’m just saying if they broke in at eight when your cars are clearly in the front, lights on, they wanted you to be home. We live in dark times, ladies. Dark times.”

Clarke swallowed a large sip of whiskey and with a calm voice that fooled Murphy but Lexa could hear right through asked, “Do you really think whoever did it actually wanted us to be there?”

“Clarke,” Lexa squeezed her thigh, trying to reassure her. “It won’t help anyone to think of worst-case scenarios.”

“Oh!” Murphy snapped loudly. “What if it was a test? To see how long your response time was. To see if you’re actually stupid enough to go outside and investigate a strange noise or something.”

“I told you that never goes well,” Clarke muttered under her breath but not soft enough for Murphy to miss.

“You didn’t,” Murphy turned to Lexa with a smirk. “You didn’t actually go investigate by yourself. Did you at least take a weapon with you?”

Lexa sighed and took a slow sip of her drink. “Does my sharp mind count?”

“No,” Murphy and Clarke answered in unison.

“Clarke came with me. She was going to protect me at all costs.”

Murphy raised his eyebrows at Clarke. “Did you take a weapon?”

“Does my cutting wit count?”

“No,” Murphy and Lexa shook their heads with matching smirks on their faces, and Lexa was grateful they had a good friend and neighbor like Murphy. He was a complete sarcastic asshole and more often than not put himself above others, but when push came to shove, he was a good man who genuinely cared for his friends.

“I’m being serious though,” Murphy tsked. “Neither one of you should have gone out there without backup.”

Lexa let that statement hang in the air. Her mind raced with self-doubt. Did she make a horrible decision by deciding to check out the noises without calling anyone else? Did she put Clarke and herself in danger by assuming she could handle whatever she found? It turned out to be nothing, but it could have been something. She was reasonably certain she could have dealt with anything. She had some skills few possessed, but it had been years since she fully practiced them.

She was still spiraling with unease when Murphy slumped back into his chair with a huff. “God, how long does it take for the cops to get here?”

Lexa shook her head of all her doubts and took another long sip of whiskey, reveling in the way it burned her throat, making her feel alive and present. “Tired of being kind already?”

“It’s just so boring. Waiting…”

“We could play a game?”

“I don’t think…” Lexa stopped short when she caught Clarke’s hopeful eyes and small smile. She needed this distraction, and who was Lexa to deny her wife anything that would ease her mind? “Actually, a game could be fun.”

“Stories?”

“I could play some Stories,” Murphy nodded. He grabbed the bottle from the table and refilled each of their glasses.

“Sure,” Lexa cleared her throat. “Stories it is. I’ll start us off.”

She took a small sip as she contemplated what kind of story to start with. One that would hopefully ease Clarke’s worries and let her relax or laugh while they waited. Lexa chewed her bottom lip and grinned when a thought popped into her head.

“Once upon a time,” she started with the usual fanfare. “A young woman, her beauty only rivaled by her unmatched mind, woke from a dreamless sleep. The moon was high, the trees beyond her window were as still as the night. She sat up from the bed and was surprised to find…”

Lexa trailed off and clinked her glass with Clarke’s, signaling her to pick up the story from there.

“A pair of eyes staring straight through her soul,” Clarke quickly continued. “The woman, Tabitha, startled for only a moment before pulling the intruder into a tight embrace.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Tabitha mumbled into her estranged lover’s ear.

‘I came back for you. Just like I promised,’ her lover whispered back, her voice soft and kind.

‘But you were gone. No one knew where you went. What happened?’ Tabitha asked as she sat back and grasped delicate hands in her own…”

“What kind of gay shit is this?” Murphy scoffed. Lexa shot daggers at him and pursed her lips. She knew the look was intimidating. She perfected it years ago, and it only took a moment for Murphy to raise his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he gulped the remnants of his drink and set the glass down on the table with a loud clink. “Ronnie, yes, her lover’s name is Ronnie. Deal with it.”

Murphy cleared his throat and continued, “Ronnie stood from the bed and paced around the room.

‘I left because I had to,’ she rambled as she walked. ‘This witch bitch found me, and I thought she wanted my soul, but it turns out, she wanted yours. So I’m back to protect your helpless ass…’”

Lexa raised her eyebrows, impressed and sort of excited about where this story was going. “Tabitha threw herself from the bed and approached Ronnie with hellfire in her eyes.

‘I am the Queen of this land. I didn’t get to where I am today by being helpless. I don’t need your protection,’ Tabitha spat. Overwhelmed with guilt over her outburst, Tabitha softened and reached for Ronnie’s hands.

Ronnie heaved a defeated sigh and intertwined their fingers. ‘I know you don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. Let me help you.’

Overcome with love, Tabitha leaned forward. The kiss was slow and soft, a reconnecting of two souls separated for years…”

“Aww, that was beautiful, darlin’,” Clarke leaned in and placed a soft kiss to Lexa’s lips. It lasted only a moment, but Lexa pulled away with a triumphant grin on her face. She was positively tickled to know that Clarke approved of her storytelling abilities.

Clarke smiled back and squeezed Lexa’s thigh before starting the tale again. “As they parted from each other, soft smiles still plastered across their faces, Tabitha stiffened. ‘Okay, so who is this witch bitch? What does she want from me?’

‘I did it, Tabby. It’s my fault. I read the inscription on the necklace. I summoned her. I didn’t know the necklace belonged to your family. I didn’t know the words would set free your family’s personal demon witch-’”

“Ronnie stopped her pathetic excuse for an apology as the door exploded into a thousand splinters,” Murphy exclaimed as he interrupted Clarke’s turn. He waved his hands in the air as he enthusiastically carried on. “The witch bitch stood in all her glory, angry red eyes locked in on her prize. ‘Finally. Tabitha, you are mine.’

The witch bitch raised her hands above her head, and just as she brought them down to cast the killing curse, Ronnie threw herself in front of Tabitha. Her lifeless body hit the ground with a loud thump. Tabitha grabbed the knife she conveniently had strapped to her thigh and hurled it straight at the witch bitch. The witch bitch screamed in agony, but just before she burst into dust, she cast another curse. Tabitha hit the floor and looked into her dead lover’s eyes as Death and Darkness himself greeted her.”

As Murphy ended the story, Clarke stood from the couch, muttered a quick excuse, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Lexa rounded on Murphy with the speed and formidable presence of a jungle cat. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“So many things.”

“This was supposed to make her less anxious about the events of the night, not more!”

“What? It’s just a stupid story,” Murphy rolled his eyes. “Come on, we were headed into disgustingly clichéd territory. I saved that story from sucking, and you know it.”

“Lucky you,” Lexa growled waving her buzzing phone at him. “The police are here.”

She stood, and as she made her way to the front door, she paused directly in front of Murphy’s chair. She set her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t freak out my wife any more than she already is. I mean it, Murphy. I will kick you out a window if I have to.”

“Would you relax?” Murphy sighed, fighting hard to keep that aloof aura he usually sported, but Lexa noticed the way his breathing sped up a bit and the way his eyes couldn’t quite meet hers.

“I’m not going to say more,” he assured her. “Go. Talk to the cops. I’ll sit with Clarke.”

*******

“Good morning, darlin’.”

Lexa stretched her tight muscles out on the oversized couch and smiled at the sight of her wife staring down at her. “Hey, how did you sleep?”

“Not bad for crashing on Anya’s couch. You?”

“Same. Where is she? Anya, I mean?”

Lexa sat up and looked around her cousin’s tasteful yet modestly decorated apartment. The sound of water running echoed into the small home.

“Shower.”

Lexa nodded and stood to fold the blankets they used the night before. Clarke remained seated, just watching Lexa work with a far off look on her face. Lexa returned the stack of neatly folded blankets to the chest in the corner and pulled Clarke up off the couch and into a hug.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Better than last night. Sorry about that.”

Lexa shook her head and pulled back far enough to look Clarke in the eyes. “It’s completely understandable.”

“I know,” Clarke sighed. “I know the cops said they couldn’t find anything, and that it was probably just the wind, but I was just… uneasy.”

“I understand. And I mean it. It’s okay. I want you to feel safe, even if that means spending another night here with Anya.”

“Oh, I’m good now,” Clarke dismissed. She glanced at the clock on the far wall and then back to Lexa. “In fact, we should probably head out if we want to make it to work on time.”

“We should wait for Anya. It’d be rude to leave without saying thank you and goodbye.”

“Nah,” Clarke shrugged. She picked up Lexa’s bag and jacket and shoved them into Lexa’s surprised arms. “I saw her before she went to shower and told her we’d probably be gone before she finished.”

“Oh, well I’ll just leave her a thank you note and start the coffee-”

The beeping from the coffee pot in the kitchen interrupted Lexa, and she turned to Clarke, who now sported a wide grin.

“Already done. And I made a quick batch of pancakes and put them in the oven to keep warm.”

Lexa furrowed her eyebrows, looking from Clarke to the kitchen and back to her again. “What time did you wake up?”

“About forty-five minutes ago.”

“You could have woken me.”

“You looked cute.”

The water shut off, and Clarke glanced towards the bathroom. She grabbed Lexa’s keys and tossed them to her. “We should get going.”

“Why are you in such a rush this morning?” Lexa asked over her shoulder as she slipped her boots and jacket on.

“I’m not.”

“Are you still upset with Anya for mocking you for being a scaredy cat?”

“Scaredy Clarke.”

“What?”

“She called me a Scaredy Clarke. Not cat.”

Lexa quirked an eyebrow up and crossed her arms, not believing for a second that Clarke wasn’t still a little sore about being teased.

“Don’t worry. I’m not that petty,” Clarke smiled sweetly. “But we should still be going.”

“Okay, okay.” Lexa did a quick check of her bag and satisfied that she had her phone and wallet, she grabbed her helmet and made her way to the front door.

“Good morning, Lexa. Scaredy Clarke.”

Lexa turned back into the apartment and gave her cousin a quick hug. “Thanks for letting us stay the night.”

“Yes! Thanks, Anya,” Clarke interrupted and pulled on Lexa’s hand, effectively ripping her out of Anya’s embrace. “We’ve gotta be going though. Don’t want to be late for work. Coffee’s ready, and I made you pancakes. They’re warming in the oven.”

“Oh, um, thank you. That’s actually really sweet.” Anya sounded as confused as Lexa felt.

“Mmhmm. Bye now!” Clarke bolted out the front door, dragging Lexa along and down to her waiting motorcycle.

“Clarke, what’s wrong with you?” Lexa removed her arm from Clarke’s grasp and glared. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Clarke assured her. She pulled on her helmet and stood by the bike, waiting patiently for Lexa. With one last sigh, Lexa pulled on her own helmet and mounted the motorcycle. Clarke’s tight grip just wrapped around her middle when she heard an exasperated “Oh, fuck,” mumbled into her bluetooth headset.

“What?”

“I left my phone on the coffee table.”

“I’ll go grab it for you,” Lexa kicked down the kickstand, but before she dismounted, Clarke pulled on her arm and hopped off the bike.

“No! No, I can’t let you take this one for me.” She removed her helmet and handed it to Lexa with a solemn nod. “If you hear yelling, she’s discovered the glitter and is coming for me. All you can do at that point is drive and never look back.”

“Clarke, what did you do?”

Clarke let out a determined puff of air, squared her shoulders and walked back towards Anya’s apartment with dramatic resolve.

“Clarke!” Lexa called uselessly after her. “Clarke! What glitter? What did you do?”

Lexa waited, bouncing her leg nervously, for Clarke to return. Movement caught in the corner of her eye, and when she turned her head to the pathway to Anya’s apartment, her mouth gaped in surprise.

Clarke strolled towards her, phone in hand, covered from head to foot in flour. She walked up to Lexa without a word and grabbed the helmet hanging loosely from Lexa’s hand. She pulled it over her head, a cloud of white dust bursting from her hair, and crossed her arms.

“What are you waiting for?” Clarke gestured towards the bike as if her flour-dusted appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. “Let’s go home.”

*******

Lexa sipped from her tea mug and retraced the markings carved into their backdoor. She was as clueless about its origins as she was the night before. Her finger glided down the final dash, and she nearly spilled her tea when a voice called out from behind her.

“My necklace.”

Lexa turned around to face her freshly showered and flour-free wife with a startled gasp. “What?”

Clarke shook her head and disappeared back upstairs. A few thuds and thumps later, Clarke returned with a small jewelry box in hand.

“My dad gave me this.”

Lexa took the offered box. It was deep emerald green with a very ornate gold Celtic knot embossed on the top. She traced the endless pattern before opening it. A long, thin silver pendant and thick chain shone back at her, and he ran her fingers down the charm. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

“He gave it to me the morning that he died. I just couldn’t…” Clarke shook her head. “The reminder.”

Lexa swallowed down her heart before it lodged in her throat at the sight of Clarke’s eyes welling up with tears. She instead turned the necklace over and gasped. “It’s the same kind of markings.”

“That’s an old Irish written language. Can’t remember what it’s called…” Clarke took the necklace out of the box and held it softly in one hand and traced the marks in their door with her other. “What do we do now?”

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s free hand and intertwined their fingers. “We go to work. And then tonight, we’ll figure out what this language is. Maybe that will give us a clue.”

Clarke nodded and pulled the best soft smile she could, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Too many inexplicable events and reminders of her past to pull a genuine grin this morning. Lexa couldn’t bear to see Clarke melancholy, and she desperately wanted to lighten the heavy mood, if only for a moment.

“But first,” Lexa smirked and pulled a startled Clarke into a tight embrace. She wrapped her arms around Clarke’s waist and brushed her nose against hers. She leaned in and whispered over pink lips, “I think you need to tell me what the hell you did to Anya to get her to toss flour all over you.”

“Never!” Clarke giggled. She pressed a quick kiss to Lexa and danced away from her grasp. “That secret is going with me to my grave!”

*******

The bed shook and groaned, waking Lexa from a dreamless sleep. The whimpers coming from the other side of the bed had Lexa startling and reaching out for Clarke.

“Hey,” she gently ran her hand over Clarke’s sweaty cheek. “Clarke. Clarke, wake up.” Lexa tried again, using her thumb to caress the curves of the face she knew so well. “It’s just a dream. Wake up. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open, her irises wide in the moonlight, her breath rough and ragged. Lexa continued to gently stroke her face and waited for Clarke’s breathing to even out. After only a moment, Clarke closed her eyes and sighed, deep and slow. When she opened them again, her body had calmed, but they were still wild with fright.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about,” Clarke shook her head. “I just have this feeling now. This gross feeling. Evil.”

“Come here,” Lexa patted the space in front of her and opened her arms wide. “Let me hold you.”

Clarke rolled so her back pressed up against Lexa’s chest, and Lexa wrapped her arm protectively around her. Clarke adjusted herself, and Lexa sighed as their bodies clicked into that perfect position, like the oh so very clichéd puzzle pieces they were.

Clarke pulled Lexa’s hand up to her lips, pressed a kiss to her palm and settled their still intertwined hands over her chest. “I feel like a child.”

“Why?”

“Having a nightmare, needing to be cuddled to feel better…”

Lexa nuzzled her nose into Clarke’s hair and inhaled that green tea shampoo she always associated with her wife. She squeezed the hand in hers and shook her head. “Oh, I’m not cuddling you to make you feel better.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope,” Lexa placed a soft kiss to Clarke’s shoulder. “Completely selfish reasons, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You see, I was having this dream about you. And your breasts,” Lexa ran her thumb up and down all the soft skin she could reach while still holding Clarke’s hand. “And when I woke up, I just had this unmanageable desire to caress them.”

“I knew you only loved me for my body.”

“Totally. I, in no way, love you for your generous mind, selfless personality, devilish humor, beguiling smile, or your ability to make me feel wholly loved by just a simple look from you. Only your flawless, gorgeous, incomparable body.”

“Shut up,” Clarke shook her head, but the delight in her voice was unmistakable. She turned in her hold with a soft smile and traced her finger from the bridge of Lexa’s nose down to her bottom lip. “You’re so good to me.”

Lexa couldn’t help but press a light kiss to the pad of Clarke’s finger. Clarke grinned full and honest and breathed out, “I can’t believe I found my person and got to marry her.”

“Clarke,” Lexa shook her head. “I can’t believe I got the first date let alone the four years that have followed.”

“I love you, you dork,” she mumbled into Lexa’s lips.

“I love you too,” Lexa pulled away and tucked Clarke’s head down into the crook of her neck. She rested her hand on a bare hip and pulled her close. “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep. To keep you safe.”

Clarke hummed out a drowsy, “You’re so warm,” and let her eyes flutter shut.

Lexa pressed a kiss to Clarke’s shoulder and had to squeeze her eyes shut at the overwhelming burst of pain pounding in her head.

Evil.

It was the evil that Clarke had described. Lexa pulled Clarke even tighter.

“Darlin’?” Clarke mumbled. “If you’re going to hold me so close, pull off the blanket. You’re so warm tonight.”

Lexa removed her arm only long enough to toss the comforter to the side, and soon enough, deep, even breathing lulled Lexa into another dreamless sleep.

As the couple lay in the dark stillness of the night, safe in their shared embrace, another carving slowly etched into the headboard above them.

*******

“Lexa! Lexa, come here!”

Lexa bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and burst into their bedroom.

“What? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Lexa wildly surveyed their ordinary, clean bedroom and found nothing strange except for her wife standing stock-still in front of their bed. She walked up next to Clarke and followed her eye line to the headboard.

“I found it when I was making the bed,” Clarke stated without breaking her gaze.

Lexa leaned forward and traced her hand over a now-familiar carving. “It’s the same mark as the back door.”

Lexa turned back to face her wife. Clarke’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace, and she finally looked away from the markings when Lexa reached for her hand.

“This is really starting to freak me out,” Clarke rambled. “Are you this freaked out? Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“It’s…” Lexa took in a steadying breath, trying to find the right words. “Odd.”

“Odd?” Clarke gaped. “I think odd is an understatement. This feels wrong. Evil. The random markings, the break-in, my dreams. For heaven’s sake, I feel insane saying this out loud, but fuck it. I think we’re dealing with something supernatural.”

“Perhaps.”

Clarke let out an angry, disbelieving chuckle and pulled her hand away. “Would you stop with the concise answers? We have some weird, scary shit going on that’s probably linked with some creepy ass mystical legend, and you’re just standing there saying ‘it’s odd’ like some damn robot. Talk to me. Please?”

“Sorry,” Lexa cleared her throat. “This is a very unusual phenomenon we seem to be experiencing, and I do agree that we may be dealing with something supernatural. I only have one meeting this morning, so I’ll take a half-day. I’ll head to the library and bury my nose in books and webpages and do a much better search for this language thing than we did yesterday. Once I figure out what this is, we’ll be able to see what we’re dealing with here.”

“That makes me feel a little better. Thank you.”

Clarke took another troubled glance over at the headboard and worried her bottom lip. “But I don’t understand why you’re on board with my supernatural angle. It doesn’t seem like you to just accept such an out-there explanation.”

“Often, the simplest explanation is the correct one. So instead of trying to come up with crazy theories about how a person could leave zero traces of themselves after breaking into our home or freak weather phenomenons that just happened to blow open our doors without breaking a thing, perhaps it’s just safe to assume supernatural.”

“But you’re so logical and pragmatic. How does this not tingle all the wrong things for you?”

This was it. She couldn’t lie to Clarke any longer. She chickened out on their second anniversary, she got cold feet the week before she proposed, and she couldn’t bring herself to confess on their honeymoon. But she wouldn’t hide it for another second. Not now. Not when Clarke was standing there looking so confused and scared.

Lexa glanced down at her feet, licked her lips, and faced her bewildered wife. “Would now be the right time to tell you I’m not completely human?”


	4. “No More Secrets”

“Clarke?” Lexa’s throat was as dry as Death Valley, her voice scratchy and barely there. She swallowed down the prickles and stared back at her oddly quiet wife. “Clarke? Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, I heard you.” Clarke’s voice was poised, deliberate, calm even, but Lexa wasn’t a fool. Clarke was livid, and there was no way Lexa was going to let her not explode. She deserved the truth. All of it. So, Lexa poked the bear.

“And?”

“And I have questions, but I don’t think you have the answers I want to hear.”

“Ask them anyway? Please?”

“Fine.” Clarke inhaled deeply through her nose, her chin lowering, her brows scrunching up into her signature grumpy face that Lexa usually found utterly endearing to witness. But not today. Today, that hellfire was directed at her for the first time in their relationship, and Lexa deserved it.

“What does ‘not completely human’ even mean? What are you? Are you evil? Does Anya know? Is Anya even human? Does everyone know but me?”

Clarke paced wildly back in forth in front of their bed, and Lexa could do nothing but listen and mentally take note of every question Clarke needed an answer to.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I married you for fuck’s sake! How could you keep this secret for years? Years, Lexa. You had years to tell me this! Why didn’t you trust me? Is it because you thought I wouldn’t believe you? I love you. How could you? How could you keep this from me?”

By the end of her rant, Clarke had stopped pacing and stood, shoulders square but dropped in defeat, in front of Lexa. Tears of anger and betrayal welled up in the corners of her eyes, turning them a more brilliant blue, and Lexa had to breathe through the immense guilt and shame at causing all this pain to the woman she loved.

“I’m going to start by saying the obvious: I love you, Clarke. I was going to tell you before we got married, but I was terrified. I kept pushing it and pushing it, and then we were married, and I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I didn’t want to screw that up. I was going to tell you in Ireland, but I-”

“Is this what Anya was talking about? When I walked in the other day while she was cooking dinner?”

Lexa cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes, I’m so-”

“Just cut to the chase,” Clarke shook her head and waved her hands, silencing Lexa once again. “Save your apologies and excuses for later. What are you?”

“My mother was älvor. My father was human. That makes me half älvor, half human.”

“What the fuck is älvor?”

“An elf. Technically.”

“So why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because it’s not the elf you think it is,” Lexa rushed out, trying to salvage a tiny bit of the conversation. “It’s more like a fairy.”

“I’m being very patient here, Lexa.”

Lexa didn’t need to hear the slight edge to her voice to know that Clarke was at the verge of her patience. That was apparent with the crossed arms, the fire burning behind her eyes, and the fact that Clarke hadn’t blinked in the last minute.

“I know. And I love you for that,” Lexa nodded slowly. “I am human. In almost every sense of the word. I’m mortal, I bleed, eat, breathe, sleep, love… I just also possess a few powers.”

“You have magical powers?”

“Yes…”

“Like what?”

“Give me your hand.” Lexa reached her own hand out, and the speed in which Clarke backed away from her, scared, was enough to feel like a punch to the gut.

“Why?”

“Please, Clarke?” Lexa nearly stuttered. “I’m the exact same person I was five minutes ago. I won’t hurt you.”

Clarke looked down to Lexa’s still outstretched hand, took a single step forward, and slowly held up her arm.

Lexa shook her head, “Your other hand.”

Clarke glared at her but slid her injured hand into Lexa’s. Lexa let out a massive sigh of relief and removed the bandage. The gash on Clarke’s palm was healing well, its angry red faded to a dark scab. Lexa wrapped her free hand over Clarke’s as a warmth enveloped her body. The heat made it’s way from her core, through her arm and out of her hands, and not once did she break eye contact with Clarke.

Lexa let go and offered a small smile as Clarke ran her finger over her now smooth palm. “You can heal people?”

“Minor healing,” Lexa shrugged. “I doubt I could heal a fatal wound or anything like that. Cuts, bruises, burns, broken bones… That sort of thing.”

Clarke stared at her perfect hand for another second before dropping it to her side and rounding on Lexa. “Wait. You’re telling me that when I broke my wrist on that stupid rock climbing date you took me on, you could have just healed me?”

“Yes,” Lexa squeaked.

“And you made me go through all that pain and suffering when you could have just touched me and fixed it?”

Lexa nodded again, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“You’re an ass.”

Finally finding her power of speech again, Lexa was desperate to defend herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of Clarke thinking she would willingly let her suffer. “We’d only been together for two months! I couldn’t reveal myself.”

“Yeah, and apparently marriage wasn’t a good enough reason to reveal yourself either.”

Lexa’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach with that, admittedly much deserved, guilt bomb. “Clarke-”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me sooner!”

Lexa took in a sharp inhale. As much as she regretted not telling Clarke about her less than typical DNA before the wedding, she needed her to understand why she couldn’t tell her in the beginning.

“Would you really have believed me back then?” Lexa waited for Clarke to answer, but when she just huffed through her nose, quite loudly, Lexa shook her head. “I didn’t think so.”

Lexa softened and reached out for Clarke once more. She nearly let out a whimper when Clarke casually intertwined their fingers, a hopeful sign that perhaps Clarke would forgive her. “You were the most beautiful person I’d ever met. And I didn’t want to lose you. You would have thought me insane and definitely not worth it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live without you.”

Clarke sighed and gently ran her thumb across the back of Lexa’s hand. “What else can you do?”

“Nothing quite as impressive as that,” Lexa shrugged. “I can see a little into the future by rune casting. Occasionally time moves a little differently for me and those close to me.”

“Omigod,” Clarke removed her hand from Lexa’s and covered her face instead.

“What?”

“Is that why sometimes when we’re having sex it seems like just a few minutes have passed, but it’s really been like two hours?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Lexa grimaced.

“You’re an ass.”

“So we’ve established.”

Clarke shook her head, again, and Lexa mindlessly wondered if all this disbelief was going to give Clarke a sore neck in the morning. Clarke closed her eyes and threw her hands up in defeat. “Anything else I should know?”

Lexa sighed and shrugged. “There are so many things you should probably know. But I’m too concerned that you hate me to even contemplate what they are right now.”

“I could never hate you.” The confession was soft and quiet, but it was just enough to ease Lexa’s anxiety if only a little.

“Do you forgive me?”

“Not entirely.”

“That’s fair,” Lexa nodded. She closed her eyes and let the moment wash over her. She told Clarke her biggest secret, and while she was justifiably upset, Clarke was still standing there. She didn’t run away. She didn’t accuse Lexa of being crazy. She accepted it and her.

When Lexa finally opened her eyes again, Clarke had moved to the edge of the bed and taken a seat. She gazed out their second-story window, staring at the trees delicately dancing in the breeze. Her face was soft, but there was still a fire burning behind her eyes.

“I do heal you, by the way,” Lexa sat down next to Clarke but was careful to keep enough space between them so they wouldn’t touch. Clarke may not hate her, but that didn’t mean she was ready for their usual level of familiarity. “I don’t let you suffer all the time.”

Clarke turned to face Lexa, and while she didn’t say anything, Lexa knew she was looking for more.

“Not all wounds are physical. I heal your emotional hurt sometimes. And you notice.”

Clarke let out a knowing chuckle. “When you’re warm. You’re healing me.”

“Just easing your mind a little. Not all the time because pain can be useful, and you need it to grow and learn and all that. But sometimes, yeah. Like helping you fall back asleep after a nightmare.”

“You make it really difficult to stay mad at you.” Clarke slid her hand across the bedspread and hooked her pinky around Lexa’s. As innocent as the tiny gesture was, the feeling of Clarke’s hand touching hers spread like wildfire through her body. Lexa curled her finger tightly and relaxed into the moment.

“Are you still going to take a half-day today?”

Clarke’s voice was soft and hesitant, and Lexa turned to her and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. With your big revelation and me being mad… I just assumed the plan changed.”

“Nothing has changed. You just have all the information now.”

“No more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” Lexa promised. And she meant it. As terrified as she was about Clarke learning the truth about her, a considerable part of her felt lighter. Clarke knew. There was nothing else to hide. So Lexa wrapped her arm around Clarke and pulled her onto her lap.

Clarke held her tight and buried her face into Lexa’s neck. Lexa held on, petrified that if she let go, Clarke would suddenly change her mind and become repulsed by the fact that she was sitting on top of a half-elf.

“Anya is not an älvor, by the way,” Lexa mumbled in the vain of not holding anything back. “Different side of the family.”

“But she knows.”

“She knows.” Lexa ran her hand up and down Clarke’s spine, dragging her fingernails just hard enough to send soothing shivers up her back. “I accidentally healed her when I was a child. I didn’t have full control of my magic then, didn’t really understand why it should stay hidden. My mother explained it to her. She’s kept my secret ever since.”

“You two-” Clarke sat up straight and shook her head, and Lexa quickly held up her hands in her cousin’s defense.

“She has been very adamant about me telling you. She thought I should have told you about me three years ago.”

“I can’t believe I agree with Anya,” Clarke sighed.

“You know you can’t tell anyone, right?”

“Lexa. Really?”

“I’m sorry. I had to say it. This world that you’re now aware of… it’s not meant for most humans. It has to remain hidden.”

Clarke stood from Lexa’s lap and crossed her arms. “I’d never betray you. Despite you basically lying to me for four years.”

“Clarke-”

“Lying by omission is still lying,” Clarke softened and pulled Lexa up from the bed. She wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck, and Lexa instinctively grasped her hips. “But I’m still hopelessly in love with you, so I’ll get over this betrayal. As long as you keep your no more secrets promise.”

“I promise.”

“And answer the many many questions I’m sure to have now that I know you’re a mother fucking fairy.”

“Älvor.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Clarke smirked and leaned in. Lexa happily met her halfway, and at the first brush of their lips, Lexa knew she was forgiven. Clarke kissed her with the same hunger and love she did the night before. Nothing had changed, and Lexa was forever grateful.


	5. "Are You a Leprechaun?”

The sun blinded Lexa as she strolled out of the office. The meeting had mercifully ended early, not that she had been paying too much attention to begin with. Her revelations of the morning still weighed heavily on her shoulders.

After their sweet and hopeful make up make-out session, Lexa left Clarke with promises to find answers about all the strange markings in their home. And she’d be damned if she returned without something useful to tell her wife.

Lexa slid her sunglasses down from atop her head as she pulled out her phone. She opened her text app and sent off a quick message and walked the few blocks to the downtown library.

 **Lexa** :  
Headed to the library

 **Clarke** :  
I’ve been thinking…  
Are you sure the library is going to have the information we need?

 **Lexa** :  
It should definitely have answers about that language.

 **Clarke** :  
And….

 **Lexa** :  
And I have access to a section you don’t.

 **Clarke** :  
Secrets

 **Lexa** :  
Not intentionally! I’ll answer any questions you have, but you can’t possibly expect me to be able to tell you about this whole world you didn’t even know existed three hours ago in a single conversation.

 **Clarke** :  
SECRETS

 **Lexa** :  
You’re messing with me, aren’t you?

 **Clarke** :  
Maybe

 **Lexa** :  
I’m not going to lie. I’m kind of turned on by that.

Lexa smirked as she shoved her phone into her back pocket and climbed the stairs to the downtown library. The library was warm and inviting, and the smell of print that invaded Lexa’s senses as she walked through the enormous double doors reached into the pit of her soul. She’d always been a book nerd at heart.

After a quick nod to the librarian, she made her way to an empty table in the corner and pulled out her laptop. Lexa quickly found the photos she snapped of the markings in their door and headboard, tracing the dashes on her screen. With a determined huff, she began her research.

After an hour of web browsing and two stacks of ancient language books, Lexa looked wide-eyed at the page in front of her.

Ogham: an alphabet dating back to the 4th century, primarily used to write Old Irish.

She found it.

Lexa studied the twenty-five letters on the page and began the slow and tedious process of attempting to translate the many lines and dashes into something she could read. But the dashes soon began to blur together, and the little she had been able to translate into familiar letters were still written in Old Irish, a language that she had come to find was particularly complicated and near impossible to decipher on her own.

Lexa sat back in the wooden chair and stretched her arms above her. She rolled her head back and forth, eyes closed, in an attempt to relax her fried brain.

Looking down at the confusing letters on the page in front of her, Lexa sighed and shoved the notes and laptop back into her bag. She needed a break.

She shouldered her bag and strode to the back of the library. Hidden in the far corner in the reference section, a single book labeled _The Dictionary of Imaginary Places_ collected dust on the lowest shelf. Lexa pressed her palm to the spine of the old reference book, took in a deep breath, and whispered, “Aperta. Volo scientiam.”

The warmth and tingles that always came when she used her magic radiated through her body, and she stood, looking around for the entrance to the Mythic Library. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just a dark corner of the library that few people frequented. Lexa dropped her shoulders in defeat. She knew she should have kept up with her magic better.

Magic was just like any other muscle in the body. It needed to be used, trained, strengthened. A mythic couldn’t just stop practicing the majority of their magic because they craved a normal life, and then just suddenly start up again and assume they’d be as powerful as they once were. It just wasn’t possible.

Lexa sighed and turned to head back home. At least she discovered what the markings were. That was a start. She could work on translating the rest of the text in the comfort of her home, and with Clarke’s combined brainpower, they should be able to get a working transcription of the markings soon enough.

She had not even taken one step towards the front when a shimmering caught her eye. It was subtle but enough to raise suspicion. Lexa reached her hand out towards the shelf and smiled when the books seemed to dance as if she was looking at a rippling reflection of them.

Her hand passed seamlessly through the shelf, and when she took a step inside, Lexa let out a breathy exhale.

The Mythic Library was huge.

Rows of books and beautifully carved wooden boxes filled with magical items were neatly arranged in easy to distinguish sections. Large numbered signs hung from the ornate ceiling, illuminated by a plethora of candles, of course, detailing the contents of each area.

Greek, Norse, Aztec, Bengali, Chinese, Slavic, Hindu.

Lexa marveled as she walked reverently through the astounding multitude of information. More than once, she was tempted to pause in a section, to examine its fascinating contents, but Lexa kept her focus where it needed to be. She could come back and bask in the land of useless (or perhaps very useful, depending on the situation) knowledge when there wasn’t some supernatural entity carving strange Irish alphabets into her furniture.

As she rounded the first shelf sitting under the Celtic section, Lexa steeled herself. The section was just as big as the others, and she had no idea where even to start. Subsections were neatly marked on the corner of each row, but they didn’t help. Creatures? Demons? Witches? Gods? Curses? Folklore? Coats of Arms?

“Come on,” she mumbled aloud to herself. “I married into an Irish family. A little luck of the Irish would be great right now.”

“Now, that’s not what you think it means. _The Luck of the Irish_.”

Lexa twirled around, searching for the first sign of another living being she’d encountered in the Mythic Library. “Hello?”

Nothing but rows and rows of books greeted her.

“And it doesn’t come from a very nice place. It’s not even Irish.”

“Who’s there?” Lexa peered around another corner, still looking for the body that fit that distinctly charming Irish accent.

“Calm yourself, lass.” The voice was right behind her. She spun on her heel to find nothing. Until she looked down.

“I’m here to help,” the very short man smirked up at her. He was about three feet tall, wore a beautiful crimson shirt covered with a leather vest, and looked as jovial as a toddler who was just told no.

“Who are…” Lexa cocked her head to the side. She caught sight of an ostentatious leather pouch on his hip that jingled when he moved, and she gasped with realization. “Are you a leprechaun?”

“Americans… only know what you’ve been force-fed through bad popular culture. Wouldn’t know a clurichaun if it bit you in the arse,” he grumbled under his breath.

He stumbled towards her; his gait was wobbly and off-centered. His eyes narrowed at her, and the scrutiny in which he glared at Lexa had her fighting the urge to back away. His small hand reached up and curled in the hem of her shirt. The clurichaun tugged, hard, and Lexa leaned forward in surprise. The smell of whiskey invaded her senses, and her nose crinkled with the overpowering aroma.

“Are you drunk?”

“Always,” he smirked as he released her. Lexa stood and smoothed down her shirt. “Fair trait of the clurichaun. Now, how may I be of service to you today?” 

“You work here?”

“Long story. But let’s suffice to say I lost a wee bet with a far darrig and a giant sometime ago, and it’s now my duty to help lost little älvor such as yourself find their way around this grand library.”

Lexa’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. It was the first time that anyone had been able to tell she was less than human. But then again, she had distanced herself from this world years ago. She should probably get out more.

Lexa cleared her throat, effectively putting her mind back to the task at hand. “I’m only half.” At the confused look the clurichaun shot at her, she elaborated. “Älvor, half älvor. I’m part human. And I’m looking for information about ogham.”

“You’d be better suited going through the human library for that,” the clurichaun sighed, pulled out a bottle of whiskey far too large to fit in that pouch on his hip, and took a long swig. Lexa marveled for a moment at the blatant magic before shaking her head. She’d seen more fantastic things in her life. It’d just been a while.

“I did already.”

“Then what are you doing here, lass?”

“It’s not the ogham I’m particularly interested in. It’s how it’s appeared in my home.”

The clurichaun peered over the bottle as he took another generous gulp.

“I suspect my wife unleashed an evil upon our house while we were honeymooning in Ireland.”

“Well, now. That sounds like quite the story. Why do you think this?”

Lexa narrowed her eyes at the overly curious mythical creature, crossed her arms, and summed up as best she could. “While we were in Ireland visiting her family’s castle, my wife found an old library, and the next thing I knew, she was zoned out reading a book and speaking a language I’d never heard her speak before-”

“You should never read aloud from a book when you don’t know what it’s saying!” The clurichaun shouted, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I know that!” Lexa defended herself. “She didn’t. I tried to stop her, but she just finished whatever it was she was reading and then backed away.”

“And that was it?”

Lexa nodded and shrugged. “We got home, and now something is carving the same ogham phrase in random places around our home.”

“And what is the family name of your beloved wife?”

“Griffin.”

The clurichaun dropped the bottle of whiskey to his side and stumbled down the aisle bumping into the shelf more than once. Lexa fought back the roll of her eyes as she followed him to the back corner of the Celtic section.

_Prominent Irish Families and Their Many Curses_

Lexa ran her finger along the sign on the shelf and turned her attention back to the clurichaun. He grabbed at several books, reading the cover and hastily shoving them back in place. His fingers found a large black book with an intricate rendition of a griffin embossed in the old leather.

“Nasty business reading from ancient texts can be,” the clurichaun mumbled as he flipped through the yellowed pages. “Yes… okay then!”

The book slammed shut with a loud crack, startling Lexa. “What? What is it?“

“Well, if all she did was read, you lasses have nothing to worry about,” he shrugged. “The Griffins don’t have any curses that you can unleash by that alone. Now if your dear wife had performed a blood ritual, then we would be having a wee bit different conversation.”

“Blood ritual,” Lexa murmured under her breath. She thought back to the library, Clarke toppling over the chair, and the gash on her hand she healed that very morning. “Oh, no.”

The clurichaun’s chest rose and fell sharply as he glared at her. His jaw set, and Lexa could feel the heat of anger radiating off of him.

“It was just a scrape.”

He shook his head, and the anger dissolved from his features. It was replaced by wide eyes and short breaths. Fear.

“Leave. Now.”

“What?” Lexa stood steadfast in the aisle. “No. I need answers. Why are you afraid?”

“You must go now,” he repeated, still clutching the book. Lexa reached her hand out, intent on at least reading the section of the book that had the clurichaun so frightened.

“No!” he exclaimed, backing away from her. “Don’t place your hand on me.”

“I wasn’t going to. I just want the book!”

He tucked the book under his arm and backed away farther, waving his half-empty whiskey bottle like a weapon. “This book cannot leave the library.”

“Then let me read it here!” Lexa held her hand out again.

“Well, now, I can’t let you do that either.”

“Why not?” Lexa bit back. Her patience was teetering on the edge of a cliff, and the determined little look in the clurichaun’s eyes was about to push it right off. “It’s just a book.”

“And what happened the last time a mysterious book was read, hmm?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me, nor will you let me find out.”

“It’s too late, lass. It’s too late for your wife.”

“Like hell it is!” Lexa scoffed. “Just let me-” She grabbed for the book, hoping the surprise move would catch the drunk creature off guard. But he was more coherent and quicker than she thought. He backed away again, turning his body so the book was almost out of sight.

“I will fight you, young lass! Don’t test me.”

“Just give me the book.”

“No!” The clurichaun grasped the whiskey bottle by the neck and smashed the end against the closest shelf. The amber liquor dripped down his hand as he brandished his new weapon at Lexa.

“Are you serious? I just need to read that book.”

The clurichaun narrowed his eyes and took a fighting stance. They stared at each other for a long moment, stuck in the strangest standoff Lexa had ever been a part of.

Without warning the clurichaun turned and took off down the aisle, carrying the information Lexa desperately needed away from her. So she gave chase.

Her longer legs proved a great advantage, and she caught up to the stumbling clurichaun in mere moments. She blocked his only exit, placing her annoyed hands on her hips.

“Will you please just let me read that section?” Lexa took another step forward and made a last attempt to grab the book.

“Ow!” Lexa backed away, clutching her forearm as blood dripped between her fingers.

“I warned you!” The clurichaun waved his broken bottle at her again.

“You little leprechaun asshole!”

“I told you. I’m. Not. A. Leprechaun!”

“I don’t care what the hell you are. Just let me know what’s going on with my wife!” Lexa threw her hands up in the air. She shook her head as tears of frustration welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“What did she unleash? Please,” she dropped to her knees, bringing her eye level with the clurichaun. “I love her. I’m not going to let her face this alone. So either you let me know what I’m dealing with and give me a fighting chance here, or continue to be a pain in the ass and let me fight this blind. And if the look in your eyes is anything to go by, I’ll probably die trying.”

The clurichaun stared down at the floor; his chest heaved with the huge sigh he released. When his eyes met Lexa’s again, the anger was gone. Fear, pity, and remorse in its place.

“It’s a nasty one.” The clurichaun placed the broken bottle on the ground and gingerly handed over the giant black book. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

*******

“Clarke? Clarke, are you home?”

Lexa shut the door behind her and kicked off her boots.

“Hey, darlin’.” Clarke appeared from the kitchen, and Lexa sighed in relief. She was okay.

Lexa tossed her keys into the bowl on the entry table and wrapped Clarke up in a fierce hug. She melted into her wife’s embrace, reveling in the comfort of her arms.

“Omigod! Are you okay?”

“What?” Lexa pulled back at Clarke’s startle.

“Your arm!” Clarke pointed at the still bloodstained sleeve of her shirt.

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me your fine,” Clarke scoffed. “I can see the blood.”

“Just a little scuffle with a clurichaun, not to be confused with a leprechaun by the way,” Lexa sighed. “He was drunk and wouldn’t hand me the book I needed to read, so I tried to grab it, and he broke his whiskey bottle and attacked me with it. In all fairness, he did warn me that he’d put up a fight. But I’m fine. Really. I already healed it. See?”

Lexa rolled up her sleeve and showed Clarke her injury-free arm. Clarke approached her and traced her fingers along Lexa’s forearm as if she needed to make certain that there was no longer any cut. Seemingly satisfied, Clarke dropped her hand and looked straight into Lexa’s eyes.

“There’s a lot to unpack there.”

“Yeah, there is.” Lexa dragged her hands up and down her face. The intensity of the day finally caught up to her, and she willingly allowed Clarke to drag her to the couch. Lexa sat, her head in her hands, and waited until she felt the dip of the cushion next to her.

A warm hand pressed against the small of her back. “I wish I had some magical secret powers that I kept from you for years.”

Lexa peaked through her fingers and groaned, “Clarke, I said I was sorry. It was a mistake to keep that-”

“No!” Clarke shook her head and pulled Lexa’s hands into her lap. “No, I meant that I wish I could ease your mind with just a touch like you do for me. You look like you could use it right now.”

Lexa smiled, but the gesture was weak at best. “I found out who is after you.”

“Something’s after me?” Clarke dropped Lexa’s hands and squared her shoulders at the revelation. The swallow in Clarke’s throat was audible as Lexa continued.

“An evil was unleashed in the library at Castle Griffin. It was bound to you when you scraped your hand and spilled blood.”

“What is it?”

It was Lexa’s turn to pull Clarke’s hands into her lap. She worried her bottom lip as she traced a random pattern on the back of Clarke’s hand with her thumb, buying a little time to compose herself before revealing what devastating evil they were about to fight.

“Not it. She.”


	6. “Witch Bitch Squad”

Since she returned from the library, Lexa and Clarke had buried themselves in the ogham translation, and although they were making progress in turning the dashes into letters, the words were still written in Irish, a language neither of them spoke. There was no way of knowing if they were even translating the alphabet correctly. It all just looked like a jumble of letters.

Lexa sat at her desk, her chin resting in her hand, as she stared at the half translated text in front of her. She had sent Clarke off to her art studio half an hour ago to take out her frustrations on a canvas. It wasn’t every day that a person learned an evil was after them.

Lexa hastily wrote down another letter the dashes could possibly be referring to and tossed her pencil in a huff. It bounced on the pad of paper and flew off the desk, clattering to the floor. Lexa just watched it roll under the chair in the corner, too tired to care, when an obnoxious knock echoed in their home.

Lexa glanced at the clock, confused as to whom would be visiting so late in the night. She cautiously made her way to the front door and rolled her eyes to the ceiling after peeking out the window.

“Raven. Octavia,” Lexa greeted tersely as she opened the door. They didn’t wait for an invitation and pushed themselves inside. Lexa stumbled but caught herself before she could topple onto the wooden floor of their entryway. “Ah, yes. Come in. I totally invited you into my house. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Raven smirked as she hung her coat on the hook by the door. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?”

“Melanie Scrofano,” Raven stated before rolling her eyes grandly. “ _Who_? Clarke. Where is Clarke?”

“She’s in her studio. What’s going on?”

Raven shook her head in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

Octavia leaned in close to whisper in Raven’s ear, although Lexa didn’t understand why she even bothered. Her voice was hardly quiet. “I think she’s serious.”

“You’ve known us for more than four years now,” Raven crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the ground, making it echo in her quiet home.

Lexa didn’t take the bait and mirrored Raven’s irritated stance. “And?”

“And you should know that when our best friend texts us that she’s being haunted by a demon witch that she accidentally set free on her honeymoon-”

“Completely unsarcastically,” Octavia interjected.

“That’s not a word,” Lexa narrowed her eyes at the two small yet powerfully loyal women in front of her.

“It is now,” Octavia shrugged.

“Right, when she texts _completely unsarcastically_ that a demon witch wants to kill her. We come running,” Raven finished and raised her eyebrows, clearly challenging Lexa to dispute her loyalty to Clarke.

But all Lexa could focus on was the fact that Clarke had contacted her friends about this. Lexa had always been so cautious about the mythical world. She wasn’t used to so many humans talking freely about it.

“She asked you for help?”

“Look, Lexa,” Raven uncrossed her arms and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I know you love Clarke, but we love her too. We’re here for her. Especially when she needs help fighting some supernatural being. We’re her Bitch Squad.”

“Witch Bitch Squad,” Octavia smirked and held up her hand. Raven blindly high-fived her, and they both just stood there, grinning at Lexa.

“She told you a demon witch was after her?”

“Yeah,” Raven nodded. “I just said that.”

“Did she tell you anything else?”

Raven cocked her head to the side and scrutinized Lexa once again. “Should she have?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa bit out. Part of her was ashamed she even thought that Clarke would spill her secret to her best friends, but another part, the part of her that kept her heritage from Clarke for years, was relieved to know Clarke hadn’t betrayed her. Not like she did to Clarke.

When Lexa didn’t offer more, Raven and Octavia turned down the hallway and headed towards Clarke’s studio.

“Wait,” she called after them. “What do you expect to do? How can you help her? What do you even know about the mythical world?”

Octavia paused and faced Lexa. “You know Echo?”

“Echo? Your roommate from college who Raven had the biggest crush on? That Echo?”

“How’d you…” Raven gaped. She took a sharp inhale from her nose and shook her head. “Clarke. After we save her ass from this witch bitch, I’m going to kill her.”

“Raven,” Octavia huffed. “Now’s not the time to dive into your less than hetero tendencies in college. Point is, Echo’s a cool chick, and we kept in touch.”

“You kept in touch?” Lexa repeated, stalling while her brain tried to piece together how Echo could possibly fit into this story.

“Yeah,” Octavia nodded. “And Echo’s a fucking fairy.”

Lexa nearly tripped over nothing while standing still. She righted herself and gaped, “Echo is a fairy?”

“What is it with you and repeating our statements as questions today?” Octavia shook her head. “Yes, she’s a fairy. Anyway, there’s this special library hidden inside the one downtown that only mythics can access. Sorry, you couldn’t go in Raven,” Octavia patted Raven’s shoulder, and Raven scowled at her.

“Fucking cool, right? She’s there now. Said she’d call if she found something.”

Lexa barely registered Octavia’s enthusiasm over the library. Her mind was still caught up on the fact that Echo, a woman she had met several times in the past, was a mythic. Just like her. “What kind of fairy?”

“What? I don’t know. The magic kind?”

“I thought I heard you two bitches out here,” Clarke appeared from behind them and opened her arms, bringing Raven in for a hug.

“Witch Bitches,” Octavia smirked as she hugged Clarke.

“Nice,” Clarke chuckled as she released Octavia. Lexa watched the warm reunion, well aware that Clarke hadn’t seen her best friends since the wedding nearly three weeks ago. She stepped to the side, content to let them catch up for a moment.

Lexa leaned against the hallway wall and closed her eyes, taking a brief moment to clear her head of ogham and Irish and demon witches. She fluttered her eyes open and let a small smile pull the corners of her mouth up. Clarke was smiling at Raven. A sincere, uninhibited smile. The first in several hours.

“How’ve you been? How was your honeymoon? Other than the whole unleashing a scary demon bitch that we conveniently know nothing about yet thing?”

Lexa dipped her head down, not wanting to intrude, but a shadow caught her eye. She squinted down the hallway, trying to decipher what could be casting the strange silhouette on the wall.

“Ireland is gorgeous. So green. And wet.”

Lexa took a step towards it as it crept down the wall.

“Griff, we don’t need to hear the details of your sordid affairs with your hot wife.”

Tendrils irked out from the shadowy mass, stretching out towards Clarke.

“Speak for yourself, Raven. I want details. Is married sex better than regular sex?”

“Clarke…” Lexa called out to her, but she was too engrossed in the best friend banter she was currently engaged in.

“Why don’t you get married and find out for yourself?”

The shadow was worryingly close to Clarke. It stopped creeping down the hallway, and the ethereal mass began to solidify.

“Clarke,” Lexa warned again, taking another step towards her wife. Her eyes never left the shadow.

“Relax, Lexa,” Clarke finally acknowledged. “I’m not going to go into details about our sex-”

“Clarke! Get out of the way!”

Lexa shoved Clarke to the side as a dagger flew through the air. Clarke collided with the wall with a sickening thump, and the blade stuck in the drywall just inches from Clarke’s face.

The shadow materialized into a human-like entity. Dark in everything from its eyes to its hair to the black cloak that hung off its shoulders. The witch began to mutter something Lexa couldn’t make out, and she had just enough time to dodge the attack of vines that sprung from the witch’s hands. The vines twisted and turned through the air, instead wrapping around the hilt of the dagger and yanking it off the wall.

Dagger now in hand, the witch set her eyes back on Clarke. Lexa stepped in front of Clarke, keeping her chin down, hands at her sides, ready to fight, to defend her wife.

“Hey, demon witch!”

Lexa turned her head just as Raven and Octavia, bravely yet extremely stupidly, threw themselves at the witch. Lexa had barely moved an inch to stop them from doing whatever it was they thought they were doing (were they trying to tackle her?), when the witch raised a single arm.

Wind expelled from her hand, and Raven and Octavia were tossed across the room like rag dolls. Their bodies had just landed with a loud thump when the witch snapped back to Clarke. She stalked towards her, and Lexa’s body moved without thought.

She threw herself back in front of Clarke, ignoring Clarke’s protests and nagging hands. The witch brandished the dagger, her eyes black as a shark’s, and Lexa brought her hands up instinctively.

A burst of heat coursed through her body. Her hands glowed a pale blue, the color of a cloudy sky, and the witch recoiled as if she hit an invisible wall. Lexa kept her hands up, intent on holding onto whatever it was she was doing. The witch growled and brandished the knife once more. She pressed the tip to the invisible wall.

Lexa’s body shook and strained with the effort to keep her power flowing. She gritted her teeth and pressed forward, willing her magic to drive the witch back. But she wasn’t strong enough. The dagger pierced through whatever Lexa was casting.

She hissed in pain just as the front door to their home burst open, and a body stepped over the threshold.

“Cumhacht an tsolais a bhronn mo shinsir, Tuatha Dé Danann orm. Bainim amach as an teach seo thú. Bí imithe, cailleach!”

A weak light surged from Echo’s palm, engulfing the witch. The demon howled and shattered into a flurry of shadows. The wind died down, and only a spattering of leaves remained where the witch once stood. Raven and Octavia groaned and grumbled as they stood and made their way to where Lexa sat on the floor, her body still shielding Clarke.

Clarke untangled herself from behind Lexa and stood. She reached down, hooked her arm under Lexa’s, and began to pull. Lexa winced again and pushed her hand deep into her side, blood seeping between her fingers.

“Oh, god. Lexa!” Clarke eased her back down and yanked Lexa’s hand away from her stab wound, replacing it with her own.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Clarke soothed with tears in her eyes. Lexa nodded, wanting to remain calm and strong for Clarke, but her breaths were stuttered and shallow. The witch injured her worse than she thought.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“Clarke-” Lexa reached for Clarke’s hand and attempted to pull it away.

“Shh…” Clarke shook her head and kept her hands firmly placed over Lexa’s wound. “Raven! Call 911.”

“Oh, right,” Raven reached into her back pocket.

“Wait!” Lexa groaned. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Hey, darlin’,” Clarke wiped a tear from her cheek with her shoulder. “We’re going to get you help. You’re going to be okay.”

“Clarke,” Lexa placed her hand over Clarke’s once again. “Move your hand.”

“No. No, you’re hurt. If I move, you’ll bleed…”

“Move your hand,” Lexa stared straight into Clarke’s eyes, willing her to trust her and remember. Clarke sniffled, nodded, and gingerly raised her hand from the injury.

Lexa slammed her own hand over the deep gash and let the warmth and tingles build from her core. Clarke pulled her head into her lap and stroked her fingers through Lexa’s sweaty hair, and Lexa let Clarke hold her as she healed herself.

After a few moments, Lexa dropped her hand from her side and curled up into Clarke’s lap. Using so much magic without practice was draining, so Lexa just let Clarke comfort her. She was so content and exhausted she forgot that they were not alone in the house.

“So,” a familiar voice called out. “Octavia, when were you going to tell me that your best friend’s wife is a mother fucking fairy?”

“Älvor,” Clarke corrected Echo.

“Ugh, an elf? Really?” Echo scoffed. “I hate elves.”

“Hey!” Clarke bit back. Lexa could feel Clarke’s muscles tense in anger, and her arms pulled her even closer as if her hug would protect Lexa from Echo's rude words.

“Sorry,” Echo held her hands up in defense. “Rude of me to stereotype all elves. I’m sure Lexa is the good kind.”

Lexa groaned and began to extract herself from Clarke’s warm embrace. Clarke held on tighter, but Lexa shook her head and stood. “I’m only half.”

“A hybrid. Even better.”

“So I take it you’re a descendant of the Tuatha Dé Danann?”

“In the flesh.”

“Is anyone going to explain what the fuck just happened?” Raven exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Anyone?”

“Griffin, here,” Echo gestured towards Clarke. “Unleashed a very dangerous witch who we all thought was dead centuries ago. Carman, the witch, attacked. I was able to fend her off because my ancestors were the ones to defeat her way back when. She’s still weak at the moment, but her power will grow over time. Not to full strength. She needs that one’s blood to restore herself to full power.”

Echo glared at Clarke and then sighed, “And it would appear that Lexa is a half Nordic elf.”

“Huh,” Raven nodded and then shrugged her shoulders as if she just accepted that quick and dirty summary of the plot.

“Is Carman gone then?” Clarke’s voice was scratchy from the tears and emotions of the past few minutes.

“She’ll be back,” Echo stated. “And next time, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop her.”


	7. “I Don’t Need Anymore Exposition”

“So Carman is a witch?”

“Yes,” Echo nodded towards Raven.

“From Greece?”

“Yep.”

“A god-like, world-killing witch who terrorized Ireland with her three sons who was then imprisoned by your ancestors after her sons were driven away and died of a broken heart?”

“Do you need me to tell the whole story again?”

“Please don’t,” Clarke sighed as she sunk further into the couch. She pressed her fingers to her temples, hard, as if the temporary pain would mask the emotional worry that was undoubtedly swimming laps in her head. “I don’t need anymore exposition. Carman’s evil, dangerous, and unpredictable. We get it.”

“So what does she want now?” Octavia leaned towards Echo, her eyes wild with confusion and distress.

“Clarke’s blood.”

Lexa found Clarke’s hand, pulled it from her temple, and curled their fingers together. Clarke’s palm was surprisingly dry and cool, but Lexa didn’t miss the way she squeezed back as if her life depended on it.

“Why?”

Echo breathed deeply and addressed the whole group instead of just Octavia. “She needs it to gain her full power back. My ancestors, the Tuatha Dé Danann, couldn’t destroy her all those centuries ago. She was too strong-”

“And Griffin plays into this how?”

Echo shot Raven a withering look, “You’d know if you let me talk.”

“Sorry,” Raven mumbled and sunk deep into the chair she was sitting in.

“Her family was tied to Carman. Always has been. They were tasked to plan and execute a feast every three years in her honor-”

“Why the fuck would anyone in Ireland want to honor a demon?” Octavia exclaimed, scoffing and throwing her hands in the air.

“Fear of retribution, curses… I have a feeling that this story is of the cursed variety,” Lexa looked back at Echo who stared at Clarke with soft, pitiful eyes and nodded.

“The Griffins kept up with the triennial feast because as long as they did, Carman would remain dormant and not enact the second part of the curse. The part that stated that Griffin blood would be the thing to bring her and her sons back to power.”

“And I take it the Griffins stumbled with their duties?” Raven sighed.

“Time tends to weaken fear. Generations passed, and eventually, the feast was forgotten. All Carman needed to do was wait for a Griffin to read the curse aloud.”

“And in walks Clarke to Castle Griffin, high on her honeymoon mojo, not paying any attention to the freaky ass book in front of her, and Bob’s your uncle,” Raven snapped her fingers so loudly everyone in the room jumped from their seats.

“Raven!” Lexa chastised as she gave Clarke’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Clarke finally sat up from the couch and removed her hand from Lexa’s. She gave Lexa that “it’s okay” look, and as much as Lexa didn’t want to back down from defending her wife, she bit her tongue. Clarke smiled weakly at her before turning to Echo.

“Carman’s sons. I assume they are just as bad as she is?”

Echo shrugged. “Their names are Dub, Dother, and Dian. Which roughly translate to Darkness, Evil, and Violence.”

The room turned silent as the information sank in. Echo stood and paced the living room, mumbling Irish under her breath. Octavia sat forward in her chair, staring at nothing on the floor as her leg bounced erratically with pent up nervous energy. Raven sat, silent as the dead, occasionally shaking her head as if she was warring an internal debate with herself.

And Clarke. Clarke was twirling a silver chain around her neck in her fingers, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in a beautiful rhythmic cadence. To any other person, her behavior seemed calm and collected, but Lexa wasn’t any other person. Clarke’s strained arm muscles, the tense upright posture, the way she slightly rolled her head from side to side every so often… She was worried, distraught even.

Lexa ran her fingers through her hair, just giving her hands something to do so she wouldn’t reach out and rid Clarke of her pain. No, she wouldn’t use her magic unless she was asked to. Not now. Not now that Clarke knew.

She gave herself another minute before asking the question that was burning hot as hell in her brain.

“How much of Clarke’s blood does Carman need?”

Echo stopped her pacing, Octavia and Raven froze, and Clarke fluttered her eyes open. Everyone had their gaze trained on Echo, waiting for her to confirm what they already knew.

“All of it.”

*******

Lexa woke with a start. Her eyes flew around the room, searching for what woke her. But she found nothing out of the ordinary. There were no sounds of their three reluctant guests up and about downstairs, there were no signs of new ogham carved into their headboard. Nothing. Just Lexa lying in bed next to her wife.

Who was actually not in bed with her.

Lexa threw the blanket off and stood in a fury. “Clarke? Clarke, where are you?”

She spun in a useless circle as if the motion would suddenly shed light on her missing wife. But all it did was make her uncomfortably dizzy, a sensation that was most unwelcome considering her flustered state of mind. Lexa had her hand on the doorknob, ready to search downstairs when the sound of running water finally caught up to her panicked ears.

She let out a most relieved sigh and opened their adjoining bathroom door. The typical humid fog that always accompanied Clarke’s scalding showers enveloped Lexa’s body as she slipped inside the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

Clarke didn’t even turn to greet her, “Showering.”

“You promised last night you wouldn’t go anywhere without Echo or me.”

“I didn’t,” Clarke turned to face Lexa, and even through the fogged up glass door, Lexa’s heart hammered at the sight of her beautiful wife, alive, and unharmed (and naked) in the shower.

Lexa shook her head of the pleasant thoughts, wanting to keep her mind focused on the fact that Clarke recklessly left the safety of her presence. Without telling her.

“I woke up, and you were gone.”

“I wasn’t gone. I’m in the shower. Relax, darlin’,” Clarke scrubbed out the last foamy bits of shampoo from her hair. She smirked and curled her finger seductively. “Why don’t you join me?”

“Clarke-” Lexa shook her head and crossed her arms. Now wasn’t the time for frivolity. No matter how tantalizing and tempting it was.

“Lexa,” Clarke imitated Lexa’s serious tone and put her hands on her hips. Lexa’s eyes followed the movement, sliding down smooth skin, and her heart was damn near about to burst from her chest.

“If I’m being hunted by a demon witch who needs to drain me of all my blood to resurrect her powers and three very scarily named sons,” Clarke reasoned as the water dripped down the curves of her body. “The least you can do is let me feel you all soft and slippery and wet one last time.”

“Can you not talk about your death?” Lexa huffed, clinging on to her last bit of willpower.

“Can you not lecture me and get in here?”

Lexa uncrossed her arms as her resolve crumbled. Her skin prickled as Clarke watched her undress, and she hissed as the almost overly hot water collided with her exposed back. The pain vanished, and shivers danced up her spine when soft hands pressed into the small of her back pulling her close.

“There,” Clarke whispered, her lips inches from her own. “Now, isn’t this better?”

“I suppose,” Lexa murmured, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s neck.

“You only suppose?” Clarke leaned in, and Lexa fluttered her eyes closed. She anticipated the feeling of soft, wet lips on hers. But Clarke had other plans.

Lexa tilted her head to the side, giving Clarke a much better angle to continue her attack on Lexa’s sensitive neck. “Okay,” Lexa breathed. “It’s not bad.”

“Hmm, not bad?” Clarke pressed a final kiss to Lexa’s neck, nipping at her delicate skin before she pulled away. “I think we can do better than that.”

And Clarke’s hand began to trail down the curve of Lexa’s waist, down her slick thigh, her fingers inching towards her.

“Clarke,” Lexa whined, grabbing Clarke’s wrist, stopping her. “Now isn’t the time.”

“Now is the perfect time,” Clarke didn’t move her hand or try to fight Lexa’s firm yet quickly crumbling grip. She pressed a long, slow kiss to Lexa’s lips, teasing her with her tongue before mumbling, “Life is short.”

“Clar-”

“CLARKE! Lexa! Where are you? Don’t tell me that witch bitch got you both.” Lexa pulled away from Clarke’s lips quicker than she could say Jack Robinson as Raven burst through the bathroom door. “Oh, good. Not dead. Just fornicating in the shower.”

“Raven! Get the hell out of here!” Lexa screeched, using her body to cover Clarke as best she could.

“Oh, relax, Woods. I’ve seen your honey more naked than that before.”

Lexa kept her body wrapped around Clarke and sent Raven what she hoped was a most intimidating glare.

“Fine. You two do you. Or each other. Or whatever. Live it up. Griffin could be dead at any moment.”

“Raven!” Lexa grabbed the bar of soap off the tray and hurled it in a perfect arc over the shower door.

“I’m going,” Raven ducked out of the way just as the soap was about to pummel her head. “Just hurry it up, will you? Echo’s chomping at the bit to get going.”

At the sound of the door clicking closed, Lexa turned back to her smirking wife. Wasting no time, Clarke leaned in again, eager to rekindle the mood. “Where were we?”

Lexa parted her lips, allowing Clarke to kiss her deeply and soundly, and she responded with just as much enthusiasm. As errant hands began to slide down Lexa’s wet skin once again, she smirked and broke the kiss with a devilish smile.

“No!” Clarke whined, grasping at Lexa. “Don’t leave. Wait!”

“Raven’s right,” Lexa shrugged as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. “We should get going.”

Lexa bit back a chuckle at the sight of Clarke pouting in the shower. Clarke crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally (or entirely intentionally. Lexa wouldn’t put it past her wife to use her assets to her advantage) putting her cleavage on full display.

“Are you going to be this difficult all day?” Clarke raised a playful yet slightly intimidating eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Clarke glared at her as she dried off her body. “I appreciate your concern for my life and this protective thing you’ve got going on, but I don’t appreciate you withholding my fun.”

“Later,” Lexa smirked over her shoulder. “We’ll have our fun later. Just not with your very nosy and quite frankly boundary disrespecting friends in the other room.”

“Spoilsport.”


	8. “For the Love of Katherine Barrell”

“The library?” Clarke huffed as she removed her helmet and looked past Lexa’s shoulder to the grand building behind her. “You jilted me of sexy shower time to go to the library?”

Lexa offered her hand to Clarke, who, after a pointed look, took it and finally stood from the motorcycle. “I jilted you of sexy shower time so we can have more precious minutes to figure out how to defeat a demon witch who the most powerful beings on the planet couldn’t even kill. A demon witch who is hell-bent on draining you of your blood to resurrect her unimaginable powers and her three sons named Darkness, Evil, and Violence. A demon witch who would wipe out the world if she were to regain her full strength.”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Clarke rolled her eyes in a playful gesture, but as she turned to push open the heavy double doors, Lexa caught the flash of worry buried under that bright, brilliant blue.

“Clarke,” Lexa wrapped her fingers around Clarke’s forearm and pulled her to a tucked-away corner in the front of the library. She slipped a few strands of hair behind Clarke’s ear, letting her fingers linger on her cheek. “We’re going to figure this out. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” Clarke leaned into Lexa’s palm. “And even if we don’t, you have that crazy shield thing. What was that anyway?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Älvor magic?”

“Must be. Älvor don’t really have a good record of all their powers. It’s different for each individual. And I’m only half. I assumed the minor healing was really my only thing.”

“And the rune casting!” Clarke shouted. The librarian sitting behind the desk glared at them, and Lexa offered her a quick apologetic smile before turning back to her suddenly excited wife.

“Lexa, why don’t you try that? Maybe we could figure out when she’ll attack next? So we can be ready?”

“I can try. But the future isn’t set in stone. Things change. We’re changing the future now. It’s not like those stories you read where every little thing is already pre-determined. More often than not, whatever the runes tell us, it won’t matter in the long run.”

“Okay, then if the future changes, maybe we can ask the runes a question where there is a definitive answer? Like where we can find the tools to defeat Carman.”

Lexa bit her lip and gave a barely-there shrug. It could be possible to ask only questions where the answers couldn’t change. She smirked at Clarke, “I love how your mind works.”

“Let’s do this, darlin’. Pull out your runes.”

Lexa laughed despite herself. “I don’t have any runes.”

“What?” Clarke looked so offended Lexa was sure she said she’d just told Clarke that the USWNT didn’t deserve equal pay rather than the fact that she didn’t carry Nordic runes on her.

“You’ve lived with me for four years!” Lexa scoffed. The librarian huffed behind her, and Lexa lowered her voice. “Have you ever stumbled across a set of runes?”

“How do you not have any runes?” Clarke whisper shouted at her.

“I don’t go around reading the changing future all the time, Clarke.”

Clarke rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms.

“But,” Lexa held up her pointer finger for emphasis. “The Mythic Library should have a set.”

“The Mythic Library?” Clarke instantly perked up as Lexa took her hand and guided her to the tucked away Reference Section. “Are you taking me to the Mythic Library?”

Lexa grimaced while shaking her head. “Humans are not allowed. I’ll bring the runes back. Wait over at that table. I’ll only be a minute.”

Clarke sulked away towards the table she pointed at, and Lexa squatted down to find _The Dictionary of Imaginary Places_ and touched the spine. She muttered the incantation and stepped through the shimmering bookcase without a look backwards.

Until a body smashed into her back.

“Clarke!” Lexa exclaimed as she caught her wife before she fell to the ground. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here.”

“I’m not leaving.” She smoothed down her shirt before crossing her arms in front of her. “This curse affects me more than anyone. I have a right to be here.”

“Just…” Lexa shook her head and closed her eyes. Clarke had a point. If she were in Clarke’s position, she’d be quite furious if she was receiving all this information from secondhand sources. “Don’t touch anything. And don’t speak to anyone. And for the love of Katherine Barrell, don’t read anything aloud.”

Clarke grinned and dramatically crossed her heart. Lexa wanted to roll her eyes, but the gesture was adorable, and she just didn’t have it in her to darken the light mood. So instead she bid Clarke follow her.

She quickly found the Nordic section and pulled out a few of the ornate wooden boxes before noticing a discretely marked black bag. Lexa peered inside and upon discovering the beautiful runes, winked at Clarke. Bag in hand, she led them to a tucked-away table.

“Okay, yes or no questions only. You ready?”

Clarke took in a deep, slow breath and nodded. Lexa gave her best reassuring smile and held open the bag of runes. Clarke reached inside and pulled out a handful. “Is what we’re looking for in the Mythic Library?”

She tossed the runes from her hand to the table. Lexa studied the images, and after a brief count, nodded at Clarke, “Yes.”

Clarke breathed out a sigh of relief, replaced the runes, and after Lexa gave the bag a good toss to shuffle them, Clarke drew another handful.

“Is what we’re looking for in section one through five of the Mythic Library?”

The runes clattered on the tabletop, flipping and rolling before coming to a stop. Lexa shook her head this time, “No.”

“Is what we’re looking for in section six through ten?”

“No.”

Clarke made her way through every numbered section of the library, each cast coming up negative. “I don’t understand,” she sat back in her chair with a huff. “The runes said it’s here, but it’s not here. Are you reading them wrong?”

“No,” Lexa tossed the bag on the table and leaned back in defeat. “It’s pretty straightforward. Yes or no.”

“Maybe this Mythic Library is fucking with your powers or something.”

“I guess that’s possible.”

Clarke stood, the speed in which she did, pushed the wooden chair across the tiled floor, and Lexa grimaced at the accompanying screech. “We’ve wasted enough time now. Just take me to that Celtic section.”

Lexa stood gingerly from her chair and motioned for Clarke to follow her as she replaced the runes to their proper box. “Why?”

“Because I want to see this book you and Echo read about my family. Maybe it will show me something it didn’t show you. It is about _my_ family, after all.”

“Since you’re already in here, I don’t see what harm it could do.” Lexa nodded, mostly to herself, convincing the hesitant voices in her brain that this was a good idea. She extended her hand, and Clarke intertwined their fingers. “Follow me.”

They rounded the bookshelf under the Celtic sign, and just when Lexa’s fingers brushed over the embossed griffin on the black leather spine, a familiar, slightly slurred voice called out to her.

“Young lass! You’re back. Why?” The clurichaun narrowed his eyes at Lexa, glaring through her soul.

“I need to see the book again. Well,” Lexa gestured towards Clarke who stepped out from behind her. “She needs to see it.”

The clurichaun shifted his gaze from Lexa to Clarke’s face, and the sudden change of his facial expression had Lexa blinking rapidly in confusion. His eyes widened, and that snarl she had become familiar with during their last encounter turned into a genuinely pleasant smile.

“Oh, my. Hello, madam.”

He held out his hand, and Clarke shot Lexa a confused look before taking his. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it reverently.

“Now, I’ve never been fond of that terrible old adage, but with your appearance here, it must be true,” he smirked. “I have been blessed with the luck of the Irish for I have never in my life seen such beauty as I do standing before me now. My heart hammers, and my eyes weep in the brilliance of your golden hair alone.”

Lexa’s jaw nearly hit the floor. The clurichaun was being polite. No, not polite. He was flirting. With Clarke. Her Clarke.

“This is my wife.” Lexa stepped forward, placing her body between Clarke and the newly flirtatious clurichaun. He backed away with his hands in the air.

“Well now, you married an elf?” He peered around Lexa and raised his eyebrows at Clarke who bit back a chuckle. “There is hope for me yet!”

“Hold on there a moment,” the clurichaun’s face dropped with realization. “Your wife? Griffin,” he stuttered, backing away, but not before grabbing the book off the shelf. “What is she doing here? Get out. Get out now!”

Lexa held her hands up in surrender. “Please,” she softened her tone and took a tentative step forward. “We’ll leave as soon as she reads the book.”

“Her mere presence is a danger! Leave this place. Don’t make me fight you again,” he brandished a new bottle of half-empty whiskey and waved it like a sword. “I’ll do more than cut you with my bottle.”

“And I’ll do more than try and grab the book away from you!” The heat started to build in her core, and her hands tingled, itching to cast. “Give us the book.”

“Lexa,” Clarke wrapped her fingers around Lexa’s forearm, lowering her now glowing hand. “Why don’t you wait for me by the door?”

Lexa turned to Clarke with a threatening look. “Excuse me?”

“Let me have a little chat with our friend here. Then we’ll leave.”

“Clarke-”

“Go on now,” Clarke nodded towards the exit. With a warning look at the now smug clurichaun, Lexa dropped her shoulders, defeated, and stomped away.

Clarke’s eyes bored into the back of her head as she huffed to the doors. Lexa glanced over her shoulder. Clarke leaned forward, cutting the height difference between her and the clurichaun in half. They spoke in whispered tones, too soft for Lexa to hear. When they caught her staring, she received a pointed look from both before the clurichaun offered Clarke his hand and guided her behind a bookshelf and out of sight.

Lexa seethed as the minutes ticked by. But just when she lost the battle with her patience, Clarke appeared from around the shelf and strode towards her.

“Okay,” Clarke held out her hand to Lexa, never stopping her pace. “Let’s go.”

Despite the tug on their connected hands, Lexa’s feet remained firmly planted. “Did he let you read the book?”

“Nope.”

“That little clurichaun asshole,” Lexa muttered under her breath.

“It’s okay, Lexa. Let’s just go.”

Lexa had to battle every cell in her body that was screaming at her to fight for her wife. Clarke stood there, pleading silently for Lexa to follow, and after only another ten seconds, Lexa’s resolve crumbled. She allowed Clarke to pull her through the Mythic Library doors, past the human librarian at the front, and to her waiting motorcycle.

*******

As Lexa locked the front door behind her, Octavia stood from the cluttered dining room table, eyes wide and hopeful. “Any luck?”

“No-”

“Yes.”

Lexa whirled around to face Clarke. “What?”

Clarke shrugged and opened her bag. She reached inside and pulled out a large, very familiar looking, black leather book.

“You stole from the library?”

“Borrowed.”

“Borrowed without permission is still stealing! Clarke!” Lexa chastised. She grabbed the book out of Clarke’s hands, waving it wildly despite its surprising weight. “You took a book from the Mythic Library! You broke the mythical seal. We have no idea what kind of repercussions this could cause. That little clurichaun is going to be even more pissed off than usual!”

“Probably,” Clarke sighed. “Which is why it’s best I read this quickly and get it back as soon as possible.”

She grabbed the book from Lexa’s hands and slumped into an empty chair at the table. Clarke slid a smattering of paper and books out of the way, clearing enough space to let the book fall to the table with a thump.

“You ladies have been busy,” Clarke noted without much thought as she flipped the book open to the title page.

Raven reached across and slammed the book shut, startling Clarke backwards. Before Clarke could retort, Raven held up her hand. “Is it really a good idea for Griffin to read from ancient Irish texts?”

Echo let out a long breath of air. “It might show her something Lexa and I couldn’t see. I say it’s worth the risk.”

“Okay,” Clarke sat up straight and took in a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

She reached for the front cover once again, her fingers hovering over the leather, hesitating. Lexa stepped up behind her and placed her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. She kept her hand there, occasionally running her thumb along her shoulder blade.

Clarke nodded to herself and flipped open the book. No one said a word as Clarke turned page after page, absorbing the vast history of her family. The first few minutes passed with baited breaths and nervous energy, but as the minutes ticked by, Lexa could feel the tension begin to release from the room.

“Claíomh Solais-”

Lexa’s eyes widened, and she slapped her hand over Clarke’s mouth before another syllable could be muttered. “No reading out loud.”

“Did you just say Claíomh Solais?” Echo stopped mid-pace and cocked her head.

“What’s cleave soul… thing?” Octavia perked up, trying to pronounce the strange Irish words.

“Claíomh Solais,” Echo rounded the table and peered over Clarke’s shoulder. “The Sword of Light. Clarke, where did you read that?”

Lexa leaned over, staring at the empty page Clarke was pointing emphatically at.

“What are we looking at?”

“The coat of arms,” Clarke tapped the blank page again. “Right there.”

Clarke slid the book to the side and pulled a scrap piece of paper towards her. She pressed pen to paper, glancing at the book every so often. A beautiful coat of arms began to take shape. A shield with a proud griffin in a fighting stance surrounded by intricate mantling, and above the shield, where the helm usually appeared, was an unmistakable hilt of a sword. Clarke held up her finished sketch for Echo, and Lexa could see the perfectly etched words on the guard.

_CLAÍOMH SOLAIS_

Echo handed the sketch back to Clarke. “When the Tuatha Dé Danann came to Ireland, they brought with them four treasures: Lia Fál (the Stone of Fál), Sleg Lugh (the Spear of Lugh), Coire Dagda (the Cauldron of Dagda), and Claíomh Solais (the Sword of Light).

It was said that no one could escape from it once it was drawn, and no one could resist it. No one. It’s a god-killer.”

“Or a demon witch bitch killer?” Clarke sat up straighter, and for the first time in nearly two days, Lexa saw those blue eyes sparkle with hope.

“Yes,” Echo nodded.

“Question,” Raven raised her hand. “If the Tuatha Dé Danann were the ones who fought Carman the first time around, and they brought this sword with them to Ireland, why the fuck didn’t they use it to kill her way back then? Why just imprison her?”

“The sword was a gift to humanity,” Echo sighed. “Only a human can wield it. A giant is said to guard its whereabouts. Or a hag.”

“What does the sword have to do with the Griffin family crest though?” Raven pressed on.

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” All eyes landed on Clarke. “What? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy when it’s plain as day,” Clarke glanced around the group and traced her fingers over the image only she could see in the book.

“I unleashed this witch because she was tied directly to my family by a very inconvenient curse. It would make sense to keep the power scale even to give my family a way to defeat it. Good and evil. Light and dark. Love and hate. Human and mythic. Balance. All the greatest things have it.”

Clarke found Lexa’s hand under the table and gave it a tight squeeze, and Lexa gazed into her eyes. Clarke’s last example of balanced things didn’t fall on deaf ears. It was a pretty clear declaration of forgiveness and love, and Lexa wanted nothing more than to lean forward, to bring their bodies closer.

“Okay,” Echo interrupted Lexa’s thoughts. “Say you’re right. We still have no idea how to find the sword.”

“Yeah,” Octavia agreed. “I’m a little lacking in the where to find giants and hags department.”

Lexa leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes tight. “I might know a guy.”

*******

“ Clurichaun?” Lexa peered around another bookshelf, Clarke at her heels, searching for the mythic creature. “Mr. Clurichaun, where are you?”

“Mr. Clurichaun? Really, Lexa?”

“I’m just trying to be respectful. I never got his name, and we need his help again.” Lexa hurried ahead and turned another corner, scanning the empty aisle.

“Oh, god,” Clarke’s sharp intake of breath had Lexa whirling around. She raced to the next aisle and skidded to a stop. Clarke’s back was to her, her shoulders slumped in despair, and she was kneeling in a puddle of blood. 

Lexa’s heart sunk to the pit of her stomach. “Clarke!” 

She sprinted to her side, sliding the last few feet on the tile floor to reach her wife sooner. While the sight before her was devastating, Lexa still released a choked sigh of relief. 

Clarke wasn’t injured. 

The clurichaun lay in Clarke’s lap, grasping at a bloody wound in the center of his abdomen. Lexa sunk to her knees. “What happened?”

“Carman,” the clurichaun struggled to articulate. He grimaced with every breath he drew.

“She’s here?” Lexa whipped her head around, searching the silent library for any sign of the witch. She only stopped when the clurichaun’s stuttered voice broke the quiet air once again.

“Was. Followed your trace here,” the clurichaun stared deep into Clarke’s eyes. “I don’t know how she broke through the seal.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke choked out. Tears streamed down her face as the guilt of stealing the book and breaking the seal overwhelmed her already shaking body. She placed her hand over the clurichaun’s, “I didn’t mean for-”

The clurichaun shook his head, “S’all right, lass. It’s my job to protect the patrons of this library.”

“Let me heal you.”

“You can’t,” the clurichaun sighed. “Elf magic doesn’t work on my particular brand of fae.”

Lexa leaned forward and placed her hand on top of Clarke’s. “Let me try.”

“S’not worth it. Don’t waste your magic on me,” the clurichaun closed his eyes and grunted. “You’re going to need it.”

“Just let me try.”

With herculean effort, the clurichaun shot his eyes open and shrugged off both their hands. “Oh, I’m sorry young lass, is this _our_ stab wound? Let me die in peace.”

Despite his weak body and labored breaths, he threw Lexa an intense glare. She dipped her chin in resolve and nodded.

“Miss Griffin, do a dying clurichaun a favor and come a little closer.”

Clarke leaned forward as the clurichaun whispered something in her ear. His body went slack in Clarke’s arms. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye and dropped to the clurichaun’s still head.

A brilliant light appeared from the ceiling, engulfing the clurichaun’s body in an honest to god glowing rainbow. Lexa reached for Clarke’s hand as the rainbow vanished, taking the body with it.

Lexa pulled Clarke closer. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to each of Clarke’s cheeks, brushing away the tears as best she could before guiding Clarke to her shoulder.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” Lexa kissed the top of Clarke’s head before standing. She tucked her hand under Clarke’s chin, urging her to look up. “Are you okay?”

Clarke shrugged, her eyes dipping down to her bag still resting on the floor. The black book peeked out from the open flap, and Lexa nodded. She gave Clarke her best reassuring look before picking it up and replacing the book to the proper shelf.

As they made their way out of the library, Lexa couldn’t hold in her curiosity any longer. “What did he say to you?”

Clarke paused before putting on her helmet. “He told me, 'that which we seek is closer than we think.'”

“The Sword of Light?”

“Perhaps.”

Lexa swung her leg over the motorcycle and pulled on her helmet as Clarke clambered on and wrapped her arms around her waist. 

“We’ll find it, Clarke,” Lexa called over the roar of the engine. “Carman will pay for what she’s done.”


	9. “You Beautiful, Self-Sacrificing, Idiot Elf”

Lexa cleared her mind, letting the breeze and roar of the engine wash away the events of the past hour. At least she tried. It would seem that her brain had other ideas.

She remained hyper-aware of Clarke’s subtle body language as she pressed against her back, squeezing just a little harder than necessary. Lexa wanted to say something, to console, to just do anything, but she was at a loss. She had no experience to draw from. Nothing in her life had prepared her for comforting someone who was marked for death by an evil witch.

Lexa sighed heavily as she guided her bike through a turn. As she righted her motorcycle, a shadow caught her eye. The same kind of shadow that had appeared in their home the day before.

The dark mass followed them, inching closer and closer. Spindly tendrils unfurled from its core, stretching out, taunting.

“Lexa-” Clarke squeezed, hard.

“I see it. Hold on.”

Lexa revved her engine, gaining speed, as she swerved dangerously around slow-moving cars. She glanced in her mirror, terrified that the shadow was right on top of them, but she let out a sigh of relief when she found nothing in her rearview mirror but typical traffic. Clarke’s body relaxed behind her, and Lexa eased off the throttle.

The next few minutes of the drive were spent in tense silence, but nothing was out of the ordinary. The light in front of them turned from yellow to red, and Lexa rolled her bike to a stop behind a row of cars.

“Fuck,” she muttered into her bluetooth microphone. The shadow was back. Right in front of them, just on the other side of the road.

“Lexa…”

“I know. I see it,” Lexa whipped her head from left to right, trying to find a way out that wouldn’t lead to them being flattened like pancakes in the hectic intersection. “I can’t go. It’s too busy, we’d get pummeled.”

The shadow swirled, and the wind picked up, twisting the mass into a human form. Carman emerged in a flurry of leaves, dark and dangerous. She raised her hands, slow and purposeful, invoking her magic. Vines shot up around her, and with a quick push of her hands, the slender plants exploded forward. They wrapped around cars, pushing them out of the way as if they weighed no more than a floating feather.

The groan and screech of metal invaded Lexa’s ears, making Clarke’s words almost indecipherable. “That’s her at less than full power?”

The vines twisted around the car just in front of them, and Lexa revved her engine. “Clarke, trust me okay?”

“What are you going to do?” Clarke tensed her arms around Lexa’s waist.

“Something reckless.”

As the vehicle in front of them whined and howled in protest, Lexa kicked her motorcycle into gear. They shot forward, directly towards Carman. Lexa let the warmth build in her core, and the pale glow was only minimally dampened by her riding gloves. She held her hand outstretched just as the shield burst from her palm.

“Oh, shit!” Clarke exclaimed as Carman flew backwards, smashing into a storefront. But Lexa paid her no notice. She sped off in the opposite direction and headed straight home.

Her adrenaline barely had time to subside before skyrocketing once again. As she pulled her bike into their driveway, Lexa caught sight of their front door, wide open.

She hopped off the bike, tossing her helmet haphazardly to the grass, and bolted through the front door. She didn’t bother telling Clarke to stay put, she knew Clarke would never listen. Not when people she cared about were in danger. But she did keep Clarke safely tucked behind her as they crossed the threshold of their home.

Echo sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Lexa crouched next to her and placed a hand to her chest. She was alive, and Lexa didn’t sense any injury. She gave Clarke a quick nod and stood.

“Fuck you, you fucking witch bitch!”

“Raven!” Lexa shouted, putting her body in front of Clarke and her hands up in surrender. “It’s just us.”

“Sorry,” Raven dropped the frying pan she brandished to her side. “Thought you were Carman.”

“What happened?”

“Just a minute ago, the room turned dark, like black dark. And then the door blew open, and Carman was seething there,” Raven gestured with a wild wave of her hands. “Echo said something that I can only assume was Irish for ‘you shall not pass,’ and this light filled the room. Carman was taken off guard I guess because she shrieked this god awful cry and disappeared. And Echo just passed out, so I went to find O. Then you two bitches stormed in and scared the ever-living shit out of me.”

“Where is she?” Clarke stepped out from behind Lexa.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Raven pointed down at Echo. “She’s unconscious, and she’s the only one who seems to know a damn thing about that witch bitch.”

“Not Carman,” Clarke shook her head. “Octavia. Where is Octavia?”

“Here.”

Octavia stumbled out from the living room, clutching her side. She bumped into the wall and rested there, throwing her head back with a loud groan.

“Octavia! What’s wrong?” Clarke rushed towards her, gripping her shoulders.

Octavia shrugged out of Clarke’s hold, “I’m fine.”

“Let me see,” Lexa stepped forward and nodded towards Octavia’s side.

“Really, I’m fine,” she grunted. “Carman sent me flying when she smashed her way into the house. The wall broke my fall. I’m good.”

“Let me,” Lexa reached for Octavia’s shirt, and when Octavia didn’t protest, she gently lifted it up. The bruise had already started to form, and Lexa placed her hand on the angry flesh. The magic flowed through her and into Octavia, mending as much damage as she could.

The world began to spin, and Lexa’s eyes fluttered as she tried to remain upright. But the bright spots in her sight intensified, and her legs gave out beneath her. She crumpled in a heap at Octavia’s feet.

“Lexa!” Clarke dropped to her knees, hoisting Lexa into her lap.

“It’s okay,” Lexa consoled, but her voice was scratchy and weak. “I’m just spent. The shield earlier, healing her now… I don’t use my magic often enough. It’s weak.”

“What can I do?” Clarke ran her fingers along Lexa’s jaw, and Lexa leaned into the soothing touch.

“I just need some time to recover. I’ll be fine.” Her eyes fluttered closed even with the effort she exuded trying to keep them open. “Octavia needs a doctor,” Lexa finally mumbled. “There could be internal bleeding that I couldn’t get to.”

“Raven,” Clarke’s voice sounded distant although she was inches away. Lexa kept her eyes closed, too exhausted to open them.

“Can you get O to the hospital? My mom’s on right now.”

“Got it. What about Echo?”

“She’s fine,” Lexa murmured. “I didn’t sense any injury. Probably just depleted like me.”

Footsteps and the groans of struggle echoed in Lexa’s ears as Raven and Octavia made their way out of the house.

“Hey, Griff? When Echo comes to, get her to finish the wards.”

“Wards?” Clarke’s fingers stilled.

“Yeah, found something on the dark web. Echo said it’d hold up. She was almost done when Carman attacked. I suspect that’s why she passed out. Already drained when she cast that last spell.”

“You were on the dark web?”

“Are you really that surprised?”

“Actually? No. I’m not.”

The door closed, and arms wrapped around Lexa.

“What are you doing?” Lexa used every bit of energy she retained to open her eyes. Clarke hovered above her, brilliant and beautiful.

“Carrying you to the couch.”

“I can walk, Clarke.”

Lexa tucked her legs beneath her and stood. She plastered a smug smile on her face, but that smirk dropped as soon as she took a single step forward. Her muscles ultimately gave out, and she crumpled towards the floor, saved only by Clarke’s quick reflexes.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Clarke shook her head and propped Lexa against the wall. She reached forward again, ready to carry Lexa to the couch.

“Help Echo first,” Lexa swatted her hands away. “She’s worse off than me.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes and cupped Lexa’s face in both her hands. Lexa sighed and nearly slipped into unconsciousness at the warm comfort the gesture brought, but Clarke was glaring at her in that way that she knew demanded full attention.

“Listen up, you beautiful, self-sacrificing, idiot elf, you are my wife. I will help you first. And if you fight me on that again, I will smite you.”

“Smite me?”

“Don’t test me,” Clarke shook her head with a smirk. But the expression soon turned from soft to serious. “Not now. Not today.”

Lexa stared back into Clarke’s watery blue eyes and understood. Clarke was holding it together by a single strand of rope. “Okay,” Lexa nodded.

The sigh was as visible as it was audible, and Lexa wrapped her hands around Clarke’s neck as she was picked up bridal style. Even though Clarke was stronger than she looked, Lexa was still surprised that she was only dropped when she was hovering over the safety of their fluffy couch.

Once Lexa was settled, Clarke made her way back to Echo, and after a few jostles and snaps of fingers, Clarke guided the barely awake Echo to the opposite couch.

“Drained?” Lexa called out across the living room.

“Yeah,” Echo nodded, her eyes fluttering. “You?”

“Yep.”

“We should get the wards up.”

“Raven mentioned that.”

“It’s almost done, but I don’t know if I have enough to finish.”

Lexa closed her eyes and steadied her mind. She gathered all the energy she could and rolled off the couch and onto her feet.

“Hey!” Clarke was at her side in a flash. “What are you doing?”

“Helping Echo finish the wards.”

Lexa stumbled forward, and Clarke caught her. “Okay, Wonder Woman, but at least let me help you to her.”

Clarke wrapped a strong arm around Lexa’s waist and guided her to where Echo lay. Echo placed her hand in Lexa’s, and the force of their combined power startled Lexa’s eyes wide open.

“Agus leis an solas déanaimid barda as na scáthanna,” Echo chanted. A ripple exploded from their joined hands, engulfing the entire house. Echo’s hand fell limply from their hold as she once again passed out.

Clarke curled her arm back around Lexa, and they both stumbled back to the opposite couch. Instead of just laying Lexa down, Clarke reclined first and pulled Lexa up on her chest. Lexa nuzzled into Clarke, her eyes fluttering at every pass of Clarke’s nails on her back.

“Did it work?”

“Felt like it.”

It was becoming increasingly more challenging to remain in this world, and Lexa’s body sagged deeper and deeper into Clarke.

“Sleep, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

“Clarke?”

“Hmm?”

“Minn lifa fera með ykkarr,” Lexa mumbled, rapidly losing the battle to stay awake.

“What’s that mean?”

But before Lexa could answer, her body gave out, and exhaustion took her.


	10. “It’s Self-Preservation”

Lexa groaned as she rolled over. The sheets tangled around her, and she instinctively reached for the warm body next to her.

But all she found was a cold pillow and dread in the pit of her stomach.

Lexa’s eyes shot open, and she swung her legs off the bed, kicking the sheets to the floor as she stood. Her vision went blurry, and her heart rate increased in a rush to regulate her blood flow. She closed her eyes to fight off the dizzy spell and took a deep breath in.

“Clarke?”

She was met with nothing but silence. Lexa peered into their empty bathroom before making her way downstairs.

“Clarke?”

Echo sat in a chair in the living room, her teacup stopped halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide at Lexa’s apparent panic.

“Where’s Clarke?”

Lexa didn’t even wait for Echo to answer. She stormed down the hallway towards Clarke’s studio. The room was empty save for the plethora of art supplies and canvases. With a huff, Lexa closed the door and headed for her office.

Clarke sat curled up in the reading chair in the corner, asleep. Books and scrap paper piled at her feet, and a notebook balanced precariously in her lap. Lexa kneeled in front of her and removed the book before running her fingers along Clarke’s cheek.

“Hey, darlin’,” Clarke’s eyes fluttered open, and the panic that had consumed Lexa since she woke vanished. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Lexa leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “I’m better now.”

“What’s wrong?” Clarke sat up straight and stretched her arms above her head.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Lexa shook her head. She didn’t need to tell Clarke about how terrified she had been to wake without knowing where Clarke was. She didn’t need to make Clarke feel guilty with everything else that was going on. So she smiled. “Have you heard from Raven? How’s Octavia?”

“She’s fine,” Clarke nodded. “No internal bleeding. The bruising was superficial.”

The news was most welcome, and Lexa’s shoulders released a bit of the tension they were holding. “Where are they?”

“They went home to shower and change. Raven was going to grab some stuff she thought should be useful, I think. They’ll be back soon.”

“Is that a good idea? For them to be outside the wards?” Lexa tucked a strand of messy hair behind Clarke’s ear. “Which I assume are working since everything seems quiet here.”

“Yeah, the wards are working. Echo checked them when she woke this morning. Raven and Octavia will be fine. It’s not their blood Carman is after.”

Lexa tilted her head to the side. “Clarke,” she squeezed Clarke’s thigh, hoping the gesture would feel soothing. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Everyone keeps saying that, but how do you know?” Clarke pushed herself out of the chair, causing Lexa to stumble backwards. She caught herself at the last second and stood, watching Clarke pace across her small office.

“We know how to stop her.”

“No,” Clarke whirled around to face her. “We _think_ we know what will stop her. We don’t have any proof that sword even exists, let alone where to find it.”

“We’ll find it.” Lexa grabbed both of Clarke’s hands and held on tight. She needed Clarke to believe, to take as much strength from Lexa and use it to calm her mind.

Clarke’s eyes darted around Lexa’s face, searching for a crack in her confidence, but Lexa held her gaze and kept the determined smile in place. Lexa was about to give herself an internal high five at successfully inspiring Clarke, but her face suddenly fell, and she shrugged out of Lexa’s hold.

“I’m just putting everyone in danger.”

“You’re not.”

“Lexa, you were passed out for 36 hours. Echo for nearly 18. Octavia was sent to the hospital. Raven has been so obsessed with research that I’m pretty sure she hasn’t slept in three days. That clurichaun is dead. You were stabbed, for crying out loud! I haven’t gotten a scratch on me. Everyone is sacrificing just for me. For no reason. Maybe-”

“Don’t you even dare,” Lexa interrupted the quickly self-deprecating rant. “Don’t.”

“I-”

Lexa held up her hand. “Shut up. No one here is sacrificing a thing. I wouldn’t normally presume to speak for everyone else, but I think I can in this instance. We aren’t here because of you. We’re here for us. We don’t want to lose you. We can’t lose you. It’s self-preservation.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Lexa shrugged. Clarke was one of the most stubborn people she’d ever met, but she’d be damned if she continued to let Clarke believe that she wasn’t worth saving. Lexa reached out again, cupping Clarke’s face with both hands. Clarke wrapped her fingers around Lexa’s wrist in an attempt to escape, but Lexa shook her head and traced her thumbs along Clarke’s cheeks.

“I may be an idiot, but I’m an idiot who would do anything to keep you alive because a world without you doesn’t seem worth it. So stop this pity party. We’re going to find the sword, and we’re going to send Carman back to whatever cursed place she came from.”

Clarke’s blue eyes turned electric as the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She leaned in, and just when Clarke was about to press her lips to Lexa’s, a slow clap startled them apart.

“That was beautiful, Lexa,” Raven snarked from the door of the office, wiping away a non-existent tear from her face. “Really inspiring.”

“Is that an elf trait? Sappy pep talks?” Octavia smirked.

“I’m so happy to see you’re alive and well, Octavia.” Despite her annoyance at being interrupted and teased, Lexa offered Octavia a genuine hug. She would never admit it out loud, but she too was quite fond of Clarke’s best friends.

Raven held open her arms, and after a solid glare, Lexa stepped into her embrace. “Good to see you in the land of the living. How was your 36-hour nap?”

“Rejuvenating.”

“Good,” Raven slapped Lexa’s back before stepping back. “Because I found out where we should start our search for Excalibur.”

“Excalibur is the Sword of Light?” Octavia’s mouth hung open. “Really?”

“Not a fucking clue,” Raven smirked. “But how cool would that be?”

“Omigod, Clarke!” Octavia practically bounced with joy. “You could be the next King Arthur!”

“Does that make Lexa your Guinevere?” Raven shot Lexa a sardonic wink, but before Lexa could retort, Clarke stepped between them.

“Raven, didn’t you say you knew where we should look for the sword?”

“Segue! Nice,” Raven held up her hand, and Clarke slapped a firm high five to Raven’s open palm. “O, will you grab my bag?”

“Why don’t you get it? I was just in the hospital.”

“My bag is right next to you. Will you just grab it, please?”

“Last time I listened to you,” Octavia set her hands on her hips. “I got flung across the room.”

“What?” Raven shook her head in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“O,” Octavia’s voice was uncharacteristically high as she attempted the worst Raven impression Lexa had ever heard. ‘Fetch me a glass of water. And a cookie for Echo because the fairy deserves one for doing all the wards.’ And then I’m walking back, and Carman busts through the door and SMASH. I hit a wall.”

“The wards are working now. Carman won’t be smashing you against a wall anytime soon. So get my bag.”

“You go get it.”

“Dear Lord,” Clarke stomped between them throwing her hands in the air. “I’ll get your damn bag.”

“You’re a saint, Griffin!” Octavia and Raven both called out as Clarke retrieved Raven’s bag.

*******

"Are you ready for this?"

Lexa finished zipping up her coat and turned to face Raven.

"Am I ready to use the magic that I've suppressed for years to create a portal to Ireland that if done incorrectly could transport the love of my life, not to mention the rest of you lot, directly off the side of a cliff?"

"Yeah, that."

"No."

"Great!" Raven patted Lexa's shoulder. "We're ready for you in the living room."

Lexa rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she followed Raven downstairs. She perked up the moment she caught Clarke's gaze, and she damn near felt like she could conquer the world when Clarke blindly tangled their fingers together.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Just nervous," Lexa swallowed down the pounding of her heart.

"About facing a giant?"

"It might not be a giant!" Raven interrupted. "Rumor mill only says that it is a man. We're only assuming giant because Echo said it's usually guarded by a giant."

Lexa ignored Raven's clarification, focusing instead on Clarke's worried gaze. "Nervous about not being able to use my magic correctly. This is the most I've used it in my entire life."

Clarke squared her shoulders and ran her free hand up and down Lexa's arm. "I trust you. You can do this."

"Your turn for a pep talk?" Lexa smirked.

"I guess so," Clarke grinned back and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"I like yours better than mine," Lexa mumbled as she pulled away from Clarke. "Less flowery. Straight to the point. 10 out of 10."

Octavia cleared her throat, pulling them farther apart.

"Do you want to try the runes one more time before we do this?"

Lexa gave Clarke one more soft kiss before addressing the question. "Why? They keep saying the same thing. That we're close."

Octavia opened her mouth to respond, but Echo beat her to it.

"Everyone ready?"

If the deep collective breath of air was any indication, the group felt both ready and terrified. Lexa squeezed Clarke's hand once and let go, their fingers trailing along each other's as if they were desperate to keep contact.

She took her marked place across the salt circle from Echo. Raven, Octavia, and Clarke stood inside, and Echo handed Lexa a lit candle.

"I'll do my best to keep the portal open, but if it closes, you'll be on your own. Lexa, you'll need to recreate this to come back."

"I know," Lexa nodded.

"I wrote the spell down on that sheet of paper, as well as the supplies you'll need to create your own circle."

"I know."

"You won't have our combined magic, so you may need to find a supplement-"

"Echo," Lexa shouted to stop her nervous ramble. "I know."

"Alright. Here we go then."

Lexa drew in a steady breath and mirrored Echo's position. She knelt down and held out the flame towards the ring of salt on the floor.

"You do know that salt isn't flammable, right?" Raven sassed.

"It's magic, Raven," Echo shook her head without bothering to glance up. "Suspend your disbelief."

"Léiríonn tine an bealach,” Echo chanted. She looked up from the ring, giving Lexa a pointed look. Lexa cleared her throat and began to recite along with her. Léiríonn tine an bealach. Léiríonn tine an bealach…"

Lexa hovered the flame just above the salt, chanting, and letting the magic flow around her. The ring ignited in a brilliant purple flame.

"Well, fuck me," Raven gasped.

The ground inside the circle glowed as the flames danced higher and higher into the air.

"Lexa," Echo shouted. "Step into the circle. Now."

Lexa blew out her candle, pocketing it as she stepped through the burning ring. She found Clarke's hand just as a warm swirling wind coiled around them. A bright light flashed, blinding Lexa. She closed her eyes and concentrated hard on their destination. When she fluttered her eyes open, she was surrounded by green and the sound of water pounding on rock.

The Cliffs of Moher. She did it.

Lexa glanced down at her still intertwined hand. Clarke tugged, and when Lexa's eyes met hers, a sly smile crept up the corners of her lips. Lexa returned the gesture, but her heart suddenly leapt into her throat.

Raven stood directly behind Clarke, and she took a step backwards.

Lexa dropped Clarke's hand, shoving her behind and wrapped her fingers in the fabric of Raven's coat. Raven's eyes were wide with fear as her body jolted to a halt.

Within seconds, Clarke and Octavia had grasped Raven's flailing hands and pulled her safely back to solid ground.

Raven's stuttered breaths came in quick and loud. She bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried to calm her shaking body. Lexa approached her, about to touch the small of Raven's back when Raven stood upright. She shoved Lexa, hard, and Lexa stumbled backwards, landing on the damp earth with a huff.

"That was a little close to the edge, don't you think?!?"

"But we didn't go off the cliff," Lexa brushed off the wet grass from her pants as she stood.

Raven marched towards her, her eyes hard, her hands flailing wildly. "I trusted you!"

"Horrible idea, really."

Raven set her jaw, and Lexa mentally prepped herself for the verbal lashing she was about to receive. But Clarke appeared, placing her hands on Raven's shoulders. "Raven, you're okay. We're okay."

Raven sucked in a long gulp of air through her nose, and if she hadn't almost stepped off a cliff, Lexa would have found the exaggerated anger on her face quite amusing.

"Do better on the way back," Raven pointed a finger at Lexa. "I happen to like all my insides on the inside, not splattered on some damn Irish rocks."

"Hopefully I won't have to," Lexa gestured to the glowing purple portal to their left.

"Let's count on Echo being more competent than you." Raven gave one more scathing look at Lexa before turning and storming across the clifftop.

"I guess we should follow her," Octavia murmured as she pressed past Lexa and Clarke.

Lexa stood there, watching Octavia power walk to catch up to Raven, wallowing in her almost failure with the portal.

"She doesn't really blame you."

Lexa turned to Clarke who was staring at her friends in front of them.

"She was just scared. She lashes out when she's scared." Clarke offered Lexa a small smile before taking off after her friends.

Lexa waited another moment, pushing the last bit of self-pity to the side before jogging to catch up with the group.

Raven led them, walking several paces ahead, down the cobbled road.

“Does she even know where she’s going?” Octavia half-heartedly whispered.

Clarke shrugged. “She’s the smartest one here and was the one to find this lead to begin with.”

Octavia tsked, “But that doesn’t mean she has a good sense of direction.”

“I can hear you bitches,” Raven called over her shoulder without turning.

Clarke and Octavia shared a sheepish look, and Lexa just shook her head as they continued their trek down the old lane. It wasn’t long before cute little buildings popped up on either side of the road, and even less time passed before Raven came to a halt in front of an adorably quaint small town pub.

“Fancy a Guinness?” Raven gestured towards the door.

Lexa looked around the group and was pleased to find both Clarke and Octavia as confused as she was.

Raven scoffed and rolled her eyes, pulling the wooden door open, “This is where the man is supposed to be. Well, in this town.”

She disappeared inside the building, and after a shared skeptical look, they followed her inside. Raven sat in a corner booth, her hands folded on the table in front of her.

“You two go ahead,” Lexa nodded towards Raven. “I’ll get the beer.”

With a quick kiss to her cheek and an even faster thanks, Clarke followed Octavia to the table. Lexa stood at the bar and swiftly ordered four pints of Guinness.

Glasses balanced perfectly in her hands, Lexa weaved through the minimally crowded pub towards Clarke and her friends.

She had barely had time to slide into the bench next to Clarke when Raven leaned forward. “Time to bust out your fancy new set of runes, fairy.”

“Älvor,” Lexa corrected as she took a sip of beer.

Raven lowered her eyes, her intention to keep the snark coming clear. Luckily, an unfamiliar voice broke the growing tension. “Good evening, ladies.”

“Hello,” Lexa put on her best smile and addressed the tall, striking stranger.

“What brings you to Liscannor?”

“Sorry?”

The man smiled down at her. “You’re clearly not from around here? What brings you to our part of the world?”

“Um,” Lexa took another sip of beer, buying herself a few precious seconds to find an unassuming answer. “The Cliffs of Moher.”

“Beautiful, aren’t they? Almost as beautiful as you ladies. May I interest you in a drink?”

“We’re good. Thanks though,” Octavia raised her pint in cheers. When the stranger turned his attention towards her, his breath audibly left his body. Lexa never believed in love at first sight. Lust, sure, but not love. This man was about to prove her wrong.

“Well, hello there.”

“Hello to you too,” Octavia smirked.

“What do they call you?”

“Octavia.”

“Octavia,” he repeated slowly, letting the syllables dance with his Irish accent. “It’s a beautiful name, but even a uniquely lovely name like that pales in comparison to the person who owns it.”

Lexa hid behind her pint of beer, Clarke bit back a laugh, and Raven choked on the gulp of Guinness she just took. But Octavia and the stranger didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in the world of insta-love they found themselves in.

“Octavia, would it be presumptive of me to challenge you to a friendly game of darts?”

“Only if you presume you’re going to win.”

The man smiled full and lovely as he extended his hand. Octavia took it, and before she was led away, she threw the table a surprised and excited grin. Clarke gave her a thumbs up and only burst into laughter when the new couple was out of earshot.

“Fuck,” Raven groaned, running her hands up and down her face. “That was getting cringe-worthy.”

“Not to distract from your apparent joy of being rid of a flirting Octavia,” Lexa leaned her elbows on the table. “But what is the plan?”

Raven finished her Guinness in a single long drag and slid the empty pint across the table. “The plan, fairy, is for you to get out that new set of runes you have on you and figure out where this man is. I did my part, time for your fairy magic to be of good use. That is if you can actually perform correctly this time.”

“Raven,” Clarke warned. “Enough with the fairy shit. You know what she is. Be respectful.”

Raven rolled her eyes, but she bit her tongue and leaned back into the booth. “Fine. But I’m not asking the runes. You do it.”

Although Lexa was dying to defend herself, she merely dragged her fingers through her hair and pulled out the bag from her pocket. Without a word, Clarke reached in and grabbed a handful.

“Is the man we’re looking for in this town right now?”

The runes scattered on the tabletop, the majority displaying a rune rather than a stone. “Yes,” Lexa nodded.

Clarke replaced the runes, gave a good shuffle with her fingers, and cast them again. “Is the man we’re looking for a giant?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s a bit of good news at least,” Clarke sighed. Lexa managed a weak smile as she replaced the runes. A sudden wave of discomfort engulfed her body. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to shake the feeling, but it just persisted. It was that prickly sensation that she always got when someone was staring at her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she glanced over her shoulder.

Octavia was facing the dartboard in the back corner, arm drawn back, ready to let loose the dart in her hand. That wasn’t odd. What was unusual was the stranger who had invited her over in the first place. The man was staring directly at Lexa, eyes unwavering.

“He’s giving me a weird vibe.”

Lexa turned back towards Clarke and nodded. “Me too, but Octavia seems to like him.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at the stranger who shirked away from her intense glare. She shoved her hand in the bag of runes and tossed them to the table in a fury. “Is the man we’re looking for in this pub?”

“Yes.”

“Is the man we’re looking for talking to Octavia?”

Lexa’s heart caught in her throat as she counted the face-up runes. “Yes,” she bit out through a dry and scratchy throat.

“Fuck me,” Raven muttered with her head in her hands.

Clarke immediately tossed the runes once again. “Does the man we’re looking for know we’re looking for him?”

“No.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” Clarke’s shoulders dropped in relief, and Lexa shrugged. It was the best-case scenario given the recent development. They still had the element of surprise, in a sense.

“Raven!” Clarke shouted, startling Lexa from her thoughts. Clarke grabbed Raven’s arm just before she slid completely out of the booth. “Raven, what are you doing?”

Raven ripped free of Clarke’s grasp and dipped her head low enough to keep her voice from carrying across the pub. “We can’t just let Octavia keep on doing whatever it is she’s doing without her knowing that this dude is harboring a seriously powerful magical weapon.”

“We don’t know if he even has the sword!” Clarke bit back.

“He could! He could have it and be an evil hag in disguise. We don’t know!”

Clarke held up her hands, pleading for Raven to wait. Raven crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows as if to say Clarke had about ten seconds to change her mind. Clarke dug her hand into the rune bag and asked one more question.

“Is the man we’re looking for evil?”

After counting an even number of face up and down runes, Lexa grimaced. “Inconclusive.”

Clarke scoffed and threw herself back into the hard wooden booth.

“Sorry,” Lexa shrugged. “That’s just such a subjective question. Evil is all about perspective. Everyone thinks they’re doing what’s best, so even villains don’t think they’re evil. To them, they’re the heroes. The runes don’t take sides.”

“The runes don’t take sides?” Raven scoffed. “What sort of mythical bullshit is that?” She pushed herself off the table and had only made it two steps before Lexa grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing,” Lexa shook her head. “Nothing good will come of it.”

Raven tore herself from Lexa but didn’t make a move towards Octavia. “So what do you expect me to do? Sit here and drink while my best friend actively puts herself in danger?”

“No,” Lexa held up her hands. “I think we should approach this when we’ve all calmed down just a bit.”

“Okay,” Raven slid back into the booth across from them and pulled out her phone.

Lexa kept her eyes trained on Raven, not trusting that quick submission for a second and whispered to Clarke. “That was far easier than I thought it was going to be.”

“Too easy,” Clarke muttered back.

The soft, overhead lights suddenly went out. All the pub patrons let out a collective gasp of surprise, except Raven.

“S’all right! Everyone stay calm,” the barkeep called out to the muttering crowd. “Nothing better than beer and whiskey by candlelight. Just remain nice and calm while we sort this out on our end.”

“Raven…” Clarke glared across the table.

“What?” Raven asked, all smiles. She pocketed her phone, reached for Clarke’s half-empty pint and finished it in a single gulp. As she placed the now empty glass back on Clarke’s coaster, she gestured for Clarke to look behind her.

“Hey!” Octavia beamed, her cheeks flush, her smile almost contagious.

“Hey, O,” Clarke greeted cheerfully but never took her eyes off the stranger standing so close to Octavia their arms were pressed together.

“So Lincoln was telling me about this gorgeous creek not far from here. And seeing as how this pub is about to turn all scary with antsy patrons, I’m going to go check it out with him.”

“ _Lincoln_ wants to take you somewhere? Alone?” Raven raised her eyebrows. “Fuck that.”

“Hey-” Octavia glowered.

“We’re coming with you,” Lexa interrupted before an all-out brawl was started.

Octavia placed both her hands on the table, ready to fight with them anyway, but Lincoln calmly rubbed Octavia’s shoulder, “I’d be more than happy to show everyone.”

After a tense stare-off between Octavia and the rest of the group, they all wordlessly gave in and followed Lincoln outside. He walked ahead with Octavia’s hand wrapped firmly in his as Clarke, Lexa, and Raven trailed behind.

They cut through the town, and within minutes were trekking along a dirt road in the middle of the Irish countryside under the moonlight.

The road twisted and turned as the trees sprung up around them. The moonlight disappeared, only coming in shimmering glimpses through the thick branches above them. The sound of water running grew louder and louder.

“Is this a good idea?” Clarke whispered.

“Probably not,” Lexa shook her head. “But I wasn’t about to let O go by herself. Besides, we need him, right?”

“We have no idea if he has the sword,” Clarke huffed. She groaned as she came to a stop and threw her head back in frustration.

“What?” Lexa turned to her and grabbed for her hands.

“We should have asked the runes,” Clarke sighed.

“Fuck the runes. Let’s just ask him.”

Raven pushed her way in between Clarke and Lexa and stomped forward. When Lexa looked up, her heart stopped for a moment.

The trees had parted, letting the moonlight shine brilliant and blue on the most picturesque meadow she’d ever seen. The vibrant green and pink of the bog rosemary were almost as stunning as the crystal clear creek that ran through it.

She let out a breath of wonder just as Raven stomped her way in front of Lincoln, splashing a bit of creek water on him as she came to a stop.

Lincoln jumped away, horrified, as the water soaked the bottom part of his legs. In that instant, the shadow on the ground morphed into a familiar creature, and Lexa rushed towards them.

“Octavia!” Lexa shouted. “Raven! Back away.”

“What?” Octavia turned to her, rightfully confused out of her mind. “Why?”

She put herself between Lincoln and their friends, raising her hands. She lowered her chin and brought the shield to the ready. “Get away from them, kelpie.”

“What the fucking fuck is a kelpie?“ Octavia called out from behind her.

“Water demon.”

“Wait,” Lincoln held up his hands in surrender. “You don’t understand. I-”

“Shut it, aqua-equine,” Lexa’s hands glowed that pale blue. “I saw your shadow when the water splashed on you. You won’t be drowning any one of us tonight.”

“He’s a horse?” Raven startled.

“He wants to drown us?” Octavia gasped.

“Does he have the sword?” Clarke shouted from the spot Lexa left her in a moment ago.

“May I speak?” Lincoln swallowed thickly. “Please?”

Lexa studied his face, looking deep into his eyes. They were soft and warm and unthreatening, and despite her better judgement, she lowered her hands to her side. “Just don’t move any closer.”

Lincoln nodded and peered around Lexa. “Octavia. I didn’t bring you here to drown you.”

“Oh,” Raven threw her arms up in exasperation. “Only us then.”

“None of you,” Lincoln shook his head. “It’s true. I am a kelpie. But I’m not evil!”

“A good demon horse. Excellent.”

“I’m not a demon,” Lincoln sighed at Raven. “And I only appear in my equine form when I take this off.”

He pulled a long ornate silver chain from under his shirt. It sparkled in the moonlight casting an otherworldly glow on his face. “Which I haven’t done in years. I just want a normal life.”

“Do you guard the Claíomh Solais?”

Lexa whipped her head to the side as Clarke stepped up next to her.

“How do you know about that sword?”

“Pretty sure I’m supposed to wield it.”

“You?” Lincoln cocked his head to the side as his eyes traveled up and down Clarke’s body in surprise. “You don’t look like a hero.”

“Not going to lie,” Clarke nodded. “That stings a bit.”

“I think you’re very heroic, Clarke,” Lexa reached for Clarke’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, Griffin,” Raven clapped her on the back. “Don’t listen to the horse man. You’re every bit a hero to us.”

“Griffin?” Lincoln stood up straighter. “As in the Griffins?”

“Yes…” Clarke trailed off.

“Forgive my ignorance,” Lincoln covered his heart with one massive hand and shook his head apologetically. “That sword is tied to your family.”

“So we’ve become aware,” Clarke sighed. “Can you hand it over now? We’re in a bit of a rush.”

“Yeah,” Octavia nodded. “Witch bitch waits for no one.”

“A witch is after you?”

“Carman,” Lexa nodded.

Lincoln took an immediate step backwards.

“I see you’ve heard of her,” Lexa raised her eyebrows. “So can you give her the sword now? So we can vanquish her?”

“I don’t have it.”

“What?” Raven took a bold, furious step forward. “Then why were you-”

Lincoln held his hands up again. “I never said I had it.”

Raven threw her head back in despair. “The rumor mill hath failed me.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke patted Raven’s back. “But if it’s not here, we should be getting back. Who knows how long Echo can keep that portal open.”

Without another word, Lexa, Clarke, Raven, and Octavia turned, leaving Lincoln standing, shoulders slumped, on the bank of the creek.

Their trek back to the Cliffs of Moher had only begun when loud footsteps echoed behind them.

“What are you doing?” Octavia stopped mid-stride to face the grinning Lincoln.

“Coming with you.”

“Nah ah, water-stang,” Raven stepped in between the new couple. “You stay here.”

Lincoln squared his shoulders, towering heartedly over Raven and raised his chin in defiance. “Where Octavia goes, I go.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude,” Raven laughed. “You’ve known her for two seconds.”

Part of Lexa agreed with Raven. It was awful quick for this kelpie to have fallen so hard for a woman he just met, but then again, his stand was reasonably honorable.

“Carman is not to be underestimated,” he stared down at Raven. “You are so far out of your element, and you don’t even realize it. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“Fine.”

“Clarke?” Raven scowled at her.

“I trust him, okay?”

Lexa took her hand and leaned forward to look Clarke in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiled. “Besides, if he wants to hurt us, your wards won’t let him in the house, right?”

“Right.”

“So we let him come with us to the portal. If he gets through, hooray. An ally. If not, well he’s stuck wherever it is you get stuck in a portal. No harm to us.”

Lexa chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to Clarke’s glowing cheek. “You’re brilliant, you know that, right?”

“Occasionally.”

*******

The walk back to the cliffs passed quickly, and Lexa let out an audible sigh at the sight of the portal still open and glowing brightly. With a small nod, the group stepped inside. The warm wind engulfed her body once again, and when she blinked her eyes open, Echo was staring right past her and at their new ally.

“Why is there a kelpie standing in the living room?”

“He wants to help,” Clarke shrugged.

“Okay, great,” Echo crossed her arms. “Did you get the sword?”

“No,” Clarke grimaced. 

“Did you find out where the sword is?”

Lexa stared at the floor, kicking at the wood with her toe to avoid Echo’s chastising glare.

“Did you accomplish anything other than gaining the favor of a water demon?”

“Hold up there, Wet Stallion,” Raven suddenly turned towards Lincoln. “You knew a weird amount about the sword. Do you know where it is?”

“No,” Lincoln shook her head. “But she does.”

Lexa followed his finger as he pointed at someone across the room. Clarke stared straight back at him, not even bothering to address all the surprised looks surrounding her.


	11. “Hey, Kiddo”

Clarke glared at Lincoln for another second before addressing the group.

“I don’t know where the sword is.”

Octavia stepped forward and shook her head. “But Lincoln-”

“Just met me. You, however,” Clarke gestured grandly to the whole group. “You all have known me for years. If I knew where the sword was, do you really think I’d send us all out to find what we thought was a giant in the middle of a foreign country?”

Octavia looked down at her feet, ashamed that she even questioned Clarke’s character. “Well, no.”

“Then stop looking at me like I’m the bad guy!”

At Clarke’s sudden outburst and the fire and pain burning behind her eyes, Lexa crossed the room in a flash. She pulled Clarke close and dipped her head to even out the few centimeters she had on Clarke. “Hey, no one thinks that. No one. It was just a surprising info drop. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Clarke nodded and rested her forehead on Lexa’s. “I believe you. Just not those bitches behind you.”

“Hey!” Raven perked up at the accusation. “I didn’t say a word. Octavia, on the other hand…”

Lexa groaned, and before turning around to stop the playground scuffle that was about break lose, kissed the tip of Clarke’s nose.

“Lincoln,” Lexa practically shouted and the volume of her voice silenced whatever comeback Octavia was about to throw at Raven. “What did you mean by that? Why do you think Clarke knows where the sword is?”

Everyone stood still, waiting for Lincoln to explain himself. “Griffins are mythological creatures who guard treasures. Why do you think her ancestors took that name? They were protectors. Guardians. They’ve always had the sword.”

“How do you know that?” Echo stared deep into Lincoln’s eyes as if she were trying to see his soul itself.

“I’m Irish,” Lincoln shrugged as if that explained everything. When everyone just stood there, not moving, he sighed and continued, “Every Irish mythic worth their salt knows about the Griffins and Claíomh Solais.”

“Guess that means Echo isn’t worth her salt…” Raven snickered, earning her a pointed look from Lexa. Raven glanced down, and spying Lexa’s glowing hand, muttered a quick apology and sunk quietly into the couch in the corner.

“Just because my ancestors may have had the sword,” Clarke interrupted the awkward tension. “What makes you think I know where it is?”

“You’re tied to all this,” Lincoln stated. “You have to have the sword.”

“Feel free to search the house,” Clarke waved an exasperated hand around. “There’s no sword. I’ve never owned a sword.”

“Your grandparents? Father? Mother?”

“Dead, dead, and not a Griffin by blood.”

Octavia shifted on her feet. “Did your dad ever show you a sword?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Octavia pressed quietly.

“Yes, Octavia. I’m sure,” Clarke crossed her arms. “I’m sure I would have remembered if my father had shown me a glowing sword at some point in the past.”

Octavia shrunk in on herself, only looking up when Lincoln wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder. The room grew tense and silent as every person contemplated on what to do next.

There wasn’t a clear path. They were just as in the dark about the Sword of Light as they were when Clarke first saw it on her family’s crest.

“I think we should ask your mother.”

“What?” Clarke whirled around, approaching Echo with alarming speed and hostility. “No! We don’t need to get her involved in this too!”

“I agree with Echo.”

Clarke looked like she was about to bite Lexa’s head off, or maybe just her punch in the nose, so Lexa held up her hands. “We don’t need to involve her, but we should have a look around your childhood home.”

“Fine,” Clarke bit out. “But when she’s not there, okay? She doesn’t need to be pulled into this.”

Lexa ran her fingers up and down Clarke’s arm, attempting to soothe Clarke’s clearly troubled mind. “She’s at the hospital now, right?”

Clarke took a deep breath in and nodded.

“I’ll come with you.”

Clarke shook her head and addressed Echo over Lexa’s shoulder. “You don’t have to-”

Echo held up a single hand, “You may need my help if Carman attacks. Outside these walls, you’re vulnerable.”

Lexa didn’t bother arguing Echo’s logic. She was right. Clarke was a walking magnet for Carman outside the wards. They had been lucky in Ireland, but with the way things were going, she didn’t want to count on that luck continuing.

Echo was the obvious choice to help keep Clarke safe, and now that Lincoln, another mythic, was here, Lexa felt comfortable enough leaving Raven and Octavia in the ward protected house.

Echo gave Clarke a quick raise of her eyebrows, and when Clarke just shrugged, Echo slipped on her boots and coat before heading towards the front door.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Raven stood from the couch, worry and concern etched on her face.

“The wards will keep you safe,” Echo zipped up her jacket and unlocked the front door.

“But you’re just going to leave us here alone? What about Carman?”

”Did you not just hear what I said?” Echo huffed.

“To be honest,” Raven grimaced. “I was choosing not to listen.”

Lexa threw Raven the same disbelieving look that every other person seemed to be offering.

“What?” Raven asked innocently. “I keep getting in trouble for my commentary. Thought I’d just remove the temptation.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lexa sighed as she tossed Echo her car keys. “Just stay inside.”

*******

“This is where you grew up?” Echo marveled as they stepped into the foyer of Clarke’s childhood home. Lexa smirked at her obvious surprise because she too once was dazed by the grandeur of Clarke’s upbringing.

“Yes, the house is big and nice,” Clarke sighed as she closed the door behind them. “Yes, I grew up wealthier than most. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

“Okay,” Echo nodded, still a little breathless at the sight of such splendor.

“Echo,” Clarke snapped her fingers, tearing her out of the daze. “You search the kitchen and living room. Lexa, you take the bedrooms on the first floor. I’ll look upstairs. Holler if you find a giant glowing sword.”

Without another word, Clarke disappeared upstairs, and Lexa led Echo to the living room. “Kitchen is just through there,” Lexa pointed before making her way back down the hall.

She searched the two bedrooms on the first floor and came away with nothing but the knowledge that Abby Griffin was a neat freak who really didn’t have an inkling of a hoarding problem.

After peeking in on Echo and finding her effectively buried in old Griffin family photo albums, Lexa trudged upstairs to offer her help to Clarke. The door to Clarke’s childhood room hung open, but the room was bare and pristine save for the slight rumple of the blue bedspread and a desk drawer that wasn’t closed all the way. Clarke had already been here.

Lexa closed the door gently and wandered further down the hall. Another door hung open, and the sound of rustling papers echoed from within. Lexa stood in the threshold, her heart pounding wildly at the sight of her wife wiping away silent tears as she shuffled through her father’s office. After only a moment and a loud sniffle, Lexa hurried into the room and placed her hand on the small of Clarke’s back.

“Holy fucking fuck shit!” Clarke whirled around, grasping at her chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Lexa smiled softly. She reached her hand up and caught a tear with her thumb before it could slide down Clarke’s face. “You okay?”

Clarke closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. When she opened them again, she nodded. “I always thought it was weird that my mom left this room completely as it was. Like a creepy morbid shrine or something. But I think I get it now. I don’t think I could clear you completely out of our home. I’d need something left.”

“Clarke…” Lexa reached up again and brought her lips to Clarke’s forehead. She pressed a long, slow kiss there, lingering for a moment.

“I know,” Clarke sniffled. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I know.”

Lexa pulled Clarke close and just hugged her. “Have you found anything?”

“Just some books,” Clarke shook her head. She disentangled herself from Lexa’s embrace and picked up a leather-bound book from the desk. “A journal. Nothing in it about a sword, at least as far as I can tell. Half of it’s in Irish. I was going to bring it to Echo.”

Lexa flipped through the journal, noting the foreign language sprawled across the majority of the pages. She tried to focus on the writing in front of her, to pick out something that perhaps screamed mythical sword, but Clarke’s energy was radiating, and Lexa didn’t need to have magical powers to realize something was bothering her.

Lexa closed the journal and set it gently on the desk. “What is it?”

“I just don’t get it, you know?” Clarke huffed. She threw her hands in the air in frustration, and tears of confusion or anger or grief, Lexa wasn’t sure, formed in the corners of her eyes as she ranted.

“If this whole sword and Carman thing is such an important part of my family’s history, how did I not know? How could he not tell me? How could he do this to me? This is all so confusing, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about any of this!”

Clarke’s sobs affected her ability to breathe, and Lexa rushed towards her. She took Clarke’s face in her hands and bit back tears of her own. She wanted to do something, and dammit, she had the power to make Clarke feel better. But she wouldn’t do it without permission, not anymore.

She ran her thumbs along Clarke’s cheeks, catching fat tears as they fell, and let her magic warm her hands. “May I?” Lexa asked softly.

Clarke stared into her eyes, they were wet and red, and Lexa’s heart broke a little further, but she held it together. “Ease your pain,” she clarified. “I can feel it, and it’s killing me. But I won’t use magic if you don’t want me to.”

Between heavy breaths, Clarke managed to nod, and with that consent, Lexa let her magic flow. Clarke’s face softened as the tears dried up. Her breathing regulated, and a small serene smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She looked beautiful. In a bout of impulsiveness, Lexa leaned in to kiss her.

As her lips pressed against Clarke, Lexa’s eyes fluttered shut, and she was floating. But when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t standing in front of Clarke. She wasn’t holding her delicate face in her hands. She wasn’t even standing inside Jake Griffin’s office anymore.

Lexa stood in the hallway, and a figure brushed past her and stopped just in front of the office door.

Clarke knocked. Lexa was sure it was Clarke. But this Clarke was young. Younger than Lexa had ever seen her. A teenager.

Clarke rocked on her feet and knocked again. Muffled voices and frantically ruffling paper echoed from within the office when suddenly the door opened.

Jake Griffin held the door open a fraction, keeping his body in the gap, being sure to mask whatever was going on inside.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jake smiled.

“Is there someone in there with you?” Clarke stood on her tiptoes, trying to peer over her father’s shoulder.

Jake adjusted his stance and pulled the door closed a fraction more. “No.”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“Why are _you_ being so weird?” Jake parroted back with a grin.

“Really, Dad? That’s bad even for you. I expect more from you than an unsophisticated playground insult.”

“Playground insults are making a comeback. You just wait and see.”

“Whatever,” Clarke laughed.

Lexa smiled at the father-daughter interaction, and she fought back the tears of regret and remorse for what Clarke lost. Her tiny thought tangent was interrupted with the sudden BANG of a heavy book landing on the hardwood.

Jake turned his head into the office at the sound, and teenage Clarke used the second of distraction to push the door open. Clarke stood dumbfounded.

A leprechaun froze in his tracks, his hands outreached for the book he must have accidentally dropped. Lexa stepped inside as Clarke did, struggling to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

The desk was covered in papers and books. Sketches of the same sword, brilliant and regal, peppered the table along with magical herbs and notes written in Irish and ogham.

“What’s going on?” Clarke stammered.

“Clarke,” Jake shook his head and grabbed her shoulders. “You weren’t meant to see this. Not yet.”

“Dad?”

“You might as well tell her, Jake,” the leprechaun piped up. He shrugged and gestured towards the plethora of sword drawings. “She’s going to need to know eventually.”

“Yes, but not yet. I want her to have a normal life first.”

“Dad?” Clarke took a step forward, peering down at the little leprechaun. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I’ll make it better. You’ll only know when you have to.”

Jake squeezed Clarke’s shoulder again and smiled sadly at her. He gave himself a single nod and turned back to the leprechaun. “Do it.”

“I don’t agree with this,” the leprechaun shook his head. “She has a right to know.”

“She’s my daughter,” Jake pleaded. “She has a right to live her life first. You know what comes with the responsibility. Her life will never be the same. Please?”

The leprechaun paused for a moment, but with slumped shoulders and a small huff of defeat, he reached into the little pouch on his hip. He took a step towards Clarke, whose face widened in fear and realization.

“No, wait!” Clarke panicked. “Don’t…”

Lexa pulled back from the kiss, and Clarke’s eyes fluttered open.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“What?” Lexa looked around the room, her eyes darting to the now clean desk.

“For easing the pain,” Clarke leaned in and kissed Lexa quickly. “Being in here, surrounded by everything that was my dad… It’s just hard.”

Lexa barely nodded, her mind still spinning from the memory she just saw.

“Hey,” Clarke reached for Lexa’s hand. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Lexa stepped away from Clarke, squeezing her eyes shut as she desperately tried to figure out what the hell just happened. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re acting strange.”

“Just a headache.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lexa finally opened her eyes and managed a soft smile. “Are you good? Do you want me to take that to Echo?” Lexa pointed at the journal on the table.

“Sure…” Clarke nodded, skeptically searching Lexa for a reason for her sudden odd behavior.

“Okay,” Lexa snatched the book from the desk and bolted for the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Lexa sprinted down the stairs as quickly as possible without being reckless. She made a beeline for the kitchen and froze with the sight before her.

Echo was dancing.

She was twirling and moving her hips to the pop music softly filling the kitchen as she opened cupboard after kitchen cupboard. After a moment of staring, Lexa felt that she had violated Echo’s privacy enough and cleared her throat.

Echo dropped the cookbook in her hand, her eyes now dangerous, and her cheeks flushed. “How much of that did you see?”

Lexa didn’t answer and instead twirled in place, perfectly mimicking Echo’s moves.

Echo set her jaw and bit out, “I can dance anywhere I please. It doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom all the time.”

“I get it,” Lexa nodded, and she did. Elves and fairies weren’t all that different. Both races were known for frolicking in the woods, dancing away the night. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have the urge to let loose and dance the worries away every now and then.

“I just can’t fight it sometimes,” Echo shrugged.

“It’s cool.”

“The fae have always enjoyed the simple pleasure of finding a rhythm and moving to it. You know, my ancestors actually met every night in the forest to dance with the moon. It’s completely normal for me to like it.”

“Echo,” Lexa held up her hands. “I get it. I like to dance too.”

Echo nodded, her cheeks finally returning to their normal color, and pointed at the leather journal in Lexa’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Clarke found her father’s journal. Half is in Irish.” Lexa handed the book to Echo. “But before you have a look, I need to ask you something.”

“Okay,” Echo set the journal on the kitchen counter and crossed her arms.

“Have you ever seen another person’s forgotten memory?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just now,” Lexa wrung her hands together. “I was easing some of Clarke’s emotional pain. I kissed her while using my magic, and suddenly I was there. In Clarke’s memory. She was a teenager and walked in on her dad with a leprechaun.”

“What?” Echo stood up straight and cocked her head to the side. “I thought she’d never been exposed to the mythical world?”

“She doesn’t remember,” Lexa shook her head. “Her father didn’t want her to be burdened by the family responsibility until she had to.”

“He erased the memory?”

“From her conscious,” Lexa nodded. “But it’s there, buried somewhere. I saw it. It was as real as you standing here now.”

“He died before he could reverse it and tell her,” Echo connected the dots. “Fuck. That’s heavy.”

“How did I see that?”

“You’ve said it yourself,” Echo shrugged. “Your älvor powers are unpredictable. Have you ever kissed her while using your magic?”

Lexa thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never really used my magic this openly around her before.”

“You’re still figuring all this out. Look, Lexa,” Echo placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Magic is tied to us. It’s tied to the very essence of us, our souls. Your soul is connected with Clarke’s. Any fool can see that. It doesn’t really surprise me to hear that you’re able to see into her mind like that. It actually wouldn’t surprise me to find that you are more powerful than you think with Clarke around. Love is a powerful thing. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that she’s your soulmate.”

Lexa let those words sink in. Soulmate. Clarke was her soulmate. She knew it. She’d always known it. She just was surprised to learn her mythical powers knew it too.

“Should I tell her what I saw?” Lexa grimaced. “If I don’t, I’ll be lying to my wife by omission. If I do, it could shatter the memory of her father. She’s put him on such a pedestal. If she finds out that he messed with her mind…”

“Now that is entirely up to you,” Echo half laughed. “I don’t have a good answer to that.”

Lexa sighed, but she knew Echo was right. This was her decision to make, and no one else’s. “Right,” Lexa cleared her throat again. “Well, have a look at that journal. See if there’s anything useful. I am going to check if Clarke needs any more help upstairs.”

Lexa smiled a small thanks and made her way to the door.

“Hey!” Echo called, and Lexa turned to her. “Whatever you decide will be the right call. You know your wife better than anyone.”

“Thanks,” Lexa smiled. She turned but was again brought to a halt by Echo’s voice.

“Oh, and Lexa?” Echo’s eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched at her sides. “Tell anyone you saw me dancing, and I’ll use my full fairy magic to smite you.”

Lexa let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head and mumbling to herself, “What is it with people wanting to smite me all of a sudden?”


	12. “Of Course It’s a Trap”

“Hey, darlin’,” Clarke called over her shoulder without turning. “Was Echo able to read any of the journal?“

Lexa pushed herself off the doorframe she was leaning on and crossed Abby’s bedroom to join Clarke on the bed. “I just left it with her. Have you found anything else?”

“Box of old photos,” Clarke motioned to the pile of things surrounding her. “A jar of baby teeth that I can only hope are mine. Why do parents save that? It’s weird and sorta creepy.”

Lexa sat down next to Clarke and grabbed the jar she was wiggling in front of her. She turned her nose up at the couple of dozen tiny teeth rattling inside. “What would you do with our children’s baby teeth?”

“I don’t know. Toss them?” Clarke took the jar back from Lexa and slipped it back into one of the memory boxes on the bed. Lexa let out a small sigh of relief to be rid of the admittedly strange memento of Clarke’s childhood.

“I’m sure it’s difficult for parents to separate with part of their children so casually,” Lexa gestured to the many boxes encircling them. “While I’m not sure what I’d personally do with it, I think I’d be rather attached to certain reminders of our children being so little.”

“That’s hot,” Clarke winked devilishly.

“Baby teeth?” Lexa grimaced. She relaxed a fraction as Clarke wrapped her strong arms around her neck and scratched at the back of her neck. “I have to admit, Clarke, this is a kink I’m not sure I can support.”

“Not baby teeth, you jackass,” Clarke playfully smacked the backside of Lexa’s head. “You keep saying our children.”

“Oh,” Lexa’s face flushed red, and it only worsened as Clarke smirked at her. “I want to raise children with you, Clarke. You know this. We’ve talked about it.”

“I know. It’s still sexy though,” Clarke leaned in a brushed her lips along Lexa’s ear as she whispered. “Little quarter älvors running around our house, you having to teach them to control their magic.”

“You want mythical babies?” Lexa breathed as Clarke pressed a light kiss to the side of her neck.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just, umm,” Lexa stuttered as Clarke continued to kiss along her collar bone. “Uh, sort of assumed with all that’s going on that you’d want nothing to do with this world. Once we defeat Carman and all that.”

Clarke pulled back at an alarming speed. While her eyes narrowed with confusion, they were still soft and a little sad. “But you’re a part of this world.”

Lexa’s heart leapt into her throat. That small confession meant everything to her. After the manic events of the past few days, they really hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss what her secret meant.

Sure, Clarke had said she still loved her, and Lexa did believe that. But a considerable part of her was still so wracked with guilt for not telling Clarke sooner and fear that Clarke would change her mind and be terrified of the mythical world.

Clarke must have sensed Lexa’s internal war because she suddenly leaned in, silencing Lexa’s weary thoughts. The kiss was chaste but full of the reassurance they both needed at that moment. Lexa’s hands found their way to Clarke’s hips, holding her close.

“Clarke, I think I found-”

Echo froze in the doorway at the sight of them wrapped up in each other.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to-” She slammed her eyes shut- “I can go-” Echo bumped into the doorframe as she tried to leave- “I mean, go back downstairs. You two carry on.”

Echo twirled around, finally making it just past the door when Lexa called out to her, “Echo, wait! What did you find?”

She opened one eye slowly, and both Clarke and Lexa waited with amused smiles until she relaxed. Echo’s shoulders heaved with her steadying breath, and she crossed the room with the journal open in hand. “Does the name Redley Foley mean anything to you?”

“Should it?” Clarke shook her head and looked down at her father’s journal.

“Your father was in close contact with him. It’s all over his entries. You never heard him talk about a Foley?”

“Redley Foley?” Clarke looked off to the side as she reached back into her memories. “No, not Redley. But he did have this business partner named Red.”

“Red?” Lexa grabbed the book from Clarke’s hands, searching the page for the familiar name. “As in Red’s Jewelers? The old Irish jewelry shop in Westend?”

“Yeah, my dad was always going down there. I think he invested in his business.”

Lexa gave Echo a pointed look, and off her subtle nod, sprang from the bed, dragging Clarke up with her.

“Hey!” Clarke startled. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to pay Red a visit,” Echo called over her shoulder as she power-walked out of the room.

Lexa quickly helped Clarke put away all the old photos and memories, creepy baby teeth jar included, and returned Abby’s room to its original spotless existence.

“Do you think Red knows something?” Clarke asked as they closed and locked the front door of her childhood home.

“I think there’s a reason your father spent so much time writing about him in that journal.”

*******

Westend was buzzing with pedestrians walking back to their cars after an evening out on the town, and as Lexa weaved through the crowd, her only thought was a silly hope that Red’s Jewelers was even open at this time of night.

The small shop seamlessly blended into the adjacent brick storefronts, only distinguishable by a familiar ornate gold Celtic knot etched onto the front window. Lexa took a deep breath and wrapped her hand around the doorknob. She exhaled grandly as the door gave no resistance and opened.

“Hello?” She called inside the dimly lit, and at first glance, empty shop. “Is there anyone here?”

“One second, miss. I’ll be right out,” a deep voice called from the back room. “Ah, what can I do for you this even-” A tall, agreeable-looking, redheaded man in his late sixties froze as his eyes narrowed in on Clarke. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It’s you.”

“Red?” Clarke asked, offering her hand. “Red Foley?”

“You look so much like your father,” he wrapped both hands around Clarke’s, shaking it enthusiastically. “I was so sorry to hear about the accident. Jacob was a fine man.”

“He was,” Clarke nodded. Tears started to form behind her eyes, so Lexa quickly jumped in.

“And the reason we’re here.”

Red smiled and let go of Clarke’s hand. “I knew this day would come. I expected it sooner, but better late than never, as they say. Wait here.”

He disappeared into the back room, and Clarke turned to Lexa with a shrug, eyes wide.

“What’s going on?”

“I haven’t a bastard’s clue,” Lexa felt just as confused as Clarke looked.

Red reappeared a second later carrying a small jewelry box in his hand. “I presume you know what to do with this.”

Clarke accepted the box and opened it. Lexa leaned over, trying to keep a respectful amount of distance as Clarke examined the necklace within. She grasped the silver chain around her fingers and let the pendant dangle. The thin silver charm spun slightly but slow enough for Lexa’s eyes to land on the ogham etched on one side.

“Let’s say, hypothetically,” Clarke glanced up at Red as the pendant swung in her hands.“That I don’t know what to do with it.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He died,” Clarke stuffed the necklace back into the box, snapping it shut with an alarming pop.

“Miss Griffin-” Red held up his hands.

“It’s Griffin-Woods now,” Clarke placed the box down on the display cabinet in front of them.

“Apologies,” Red looked from Clarke's face down to Lexa’s hand that was protectively encircling her waist. He nodded and offered a small smile. “Mrs. Griffin-Woods, this necklace is the key.”

“Key to what?”

“He never told me,” Red slid the box forward and waited for Clarke to pick it up again. “All I know is that there is magic bound in the metal. I was tasked to forge it into a necklace. Jacob never returned for it, but I knew you’d come. One day.”

Echo suddenly stepped forward, her eyes on fire. “What are you?”

“Just a jeweler.”

“You’re not.”

Red leaned forward, clearly not intimidated by Echo’s posture. “What are _you_?”

“Fairy.”

Red smirked and let out a half-laugh. “Is iníon na foraoise thú. Is mac don ghrian mé. Is beirt pháistí sinn in Éirinn.”

“What did he say?” Clarke turned to Echo as she backed down from her aggressive stance.

“He’s a friend.”

“Okay, _friend_ ,” Clarke exaggerated the word. “Do you have anything else you can tell me about this? Did my father leave a note? Instructions? Anything?”

Red’s face softened as he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Clarke’s shoulders dropped, and with a roll of her eyes, she pocketed the box and turned to leave. “Thanks for the necklace,” she shrugged before opening the door.

“Your father had great faith in you, Mrs. Griffin-Woods.”

At the sound of Red’s voice, Clarke froze but didn’t turn. “I don’t think his faith was poorly placed.”

Lexa followed Clarke blindly outside with Echo just behind.

“Fairy?” Red called out to Echo. “Tá an rud a lorgaíonn tú níos dlúithe ná mar a cheapann tú.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa caught Echo nodding before they all silently made their way back to the car. The mechanical chirp of the unlocked vehicle broke the weird tension, and Clarke rounded on Echo.

“What did he tell you, just before we left?”

Echo stood beside the driver’s side door and looked over the hood to Clarke. “He said ‘that which we seek is closer than we think.’”

“The clurichaun said the same thing,” Clarke muttered. “Just before he died.”

“What do you think it means?” Echo mumbled, mostly to herself, but it was all that was needed to break Clarke.

“I don’t know,” Clarke growled, slamming her hand on the hood of the car. “We just keep getting more questions than answers. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore. Where is the damn sword? What the hell is this necklace a key to? A safe? A portal? Is it just a metaphorical key? Is it the key to defeating Carman? And where the hell is Carman anyway? I’ve been out of the wards twice now, and she’s nowhere to be found. Are we sure she still needs my blood? What’s she waiting for, huh? Lightning to strike? A rainbow to appear over my head? My father to come back from the dead to finally tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Clarke…” Lexa reached for her near hyperventilating wife and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke shook her head.

“Don’t be,” Lexa wrapped Clarke in a tight embrace. “You have every right to be upset.”

With a scoff, Clarke broke out of Lexa’s hold and pushed her away. “I’m not upset, Lexa. I’m angry. I’m downright pissed off. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for an ancient family curse. I didn’t ask for a mythical wife. I didn’t ask for all these questions with no answers. None of it. I asked for none of it.”

Clarke pulled open the passenger door and slid inside, slamming it shut behind her. Lexa ignored the apologetic look Echo was giving her and quietly slipped inside the backseat. No one said a word on the way back home.

Lexa’s mind was reeling from the verbal slap Clarke laid on her, but she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t see it coming. It was only a matter of time before Clarke realized all the trouble that could come from being part of the mythical world. Lexa understood. All too well.

It was the reason she didn’t practice her magic for so long. It was the reason she took so long to tell Clarke what she really was. And it turned out that she was right. Clarke didn’t want her mythical side. It was too much.

The car rolled to a stop, and Lexa startled at the sight of their home looming in front of them. Time really flew when wallowing in all the bad decisions she’d made.

She exited the car, following Clarke who didn’t even look at her. Lexa tucked her head low and nearly bumped into Clarke’s suddenly stationary back.

Clarke was frozen to the spot, staring at their front door.

“What is it?” Lexa peered around Clarke, her eyes going wide. The front door hung on its hinges at an odd angle. But that wasn’t the most concerning thing. No, the most concerning thing was the streak of blood, disturbingly bright against the white brick of their front porch.

Clarke sprinted inside without a word, and Lexa rushed to follow.

“Raven? Octavia?” Clarke called frantically inside the pitch-black house. “Where are you?”

Lexa finally caught up to Clarke as she hunched over a pile of bodies. Clarke gently eased Octavia’s unconscious and bruised body off of Lincoln, cradling her head in her lap. Lexa slid down on her knees, pressing her hand to Octavia’s chest. There was a heartbeat, and Lexa could sense many injuries, thankfully none life-threatening. She reached a hand to Lincoln and found him in a similar state.

“They’ll be okay,” Lexa mumbled as she let the magic pool in her core. She placed one hand on Octavia and one on Lincoln.

Clarke nodded and stood, letting Lexa heal them. She disappeared upstairs, the sound of her frantic voice calling for Raven echoing in the still house every now and then.

The longer Clarke was gone, the more a sick feeling settled in the pit of Lexa’s stomach. She tried to push it aside, to concentrate on bringing Octavia and Lincoln back into the land of the conscious.

Octavia suddenly fluttered her eyes open just a moment before Lincoln, and Lexa helped her sit up.

“What happened?” Echo’s voice was softer than Lexa had ever heard it. “Where’s Raven?”

“She took her,” Lincoln coughed as he leaned his weight on his elbows.

Echo gasped and looked on the brink of tears. “How did she get past the wards?”

“I don’t know, Echo,” Octavia stood and towered over Echo’s hunched body. “You tell me. You tell me how that witch broke through your spells and kidnapped my best friend.”

“Octavia,” Lincoln shook his head and reached for her hand. “You can’t blame her.”

“Shut up, Lincoln,” Octavia snatched her arm away. “Raven is gone and probably dead, and it’s her fault.”

“She’s not dead.”

The four of them turned to find Clarke standing at the foot of the stairs, a piece of torn paper hanging down at her side.

“Clarke?”

Clarke wordlessly handed the note over to Echo who scanned it, muttering in Irish. She took a deep breath and translated the text:

_I have your friend.  
_ _I don’t want her.  
_ _Castle Griffin, tomorrow, midnight_

“Clarke,” Echo shook her head. “You can’t. It’s a trap.”

“Of course it’s a trap,” Clarke scoffed. “There is zero sub-text here. She wants me in exchange for Raven. And she’ll get me.”

Lexa stood and squared her shoulders. Tears of frustration and shock burned behind her eyes. “I don’t fucking think so.”

Clarke cocked her head to the side, studying Lexa’s determination. With a voice far too calm for the situation, Clarke raised her eyebrows, “If you have any better ideas, I’m open to suggestions. But Raven’s not dying for me. No one is.”

“Clarke-” Lexa grasped Clarke’s hand, pleading, begging her wife not to do this.

“I might have an idea.”

Lexa’s head whipped to the wide-open front door. “Anya?” She marveled before a wave of anger crashed over her. “What the hell are you doing here?”


	13. “Until My Last Breath”

Lexa clicked her office door closed before twirling on her heel and facing Anya. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“And a hello to you too, cousin.”

Lexa lowered her chin and continued to glare, just waiting for Anya to answer her valid question. Anya, to her credit, wasn’t flustered in the least by Lexa’s patented death stare, but after a few tense moments in their staring standoff, Anya let her shoulders drop.

“How could you keep this from me?“

“Not you too,” Lexa sighed. She shook her head, mostly annoyed with herself. It would seem that no matter what her intentions were, every decision she made regarding those she loved was a bad one.

“Lexa,” Anya softened. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? You know I know about this world. I’ve studied it for years, for fuck’s sake! Why wouldn’t you tell me that a demon witch is after your wife? Your _wife_ , Lexa. Clarke annoys me on a near-daily basis, but I still love her like a sister. You know I’d do anything to help her. And you.”

Lexa stood frozen with Anya’s admission. They locked gazes, the sibling-like love pouring from every minute twitch of their eyes, but just when Lexa was about to cross the small room, just when she was about to wrap Anya up in a tight hug and perhaps get a minuscule amount of support or comfort, Anya hardened and threw her hands up in the air.

“You have Octavia and Echo helping you? Echo? Really? You go to her before me? You hardly know her! What can she possibly offer that I can’t?”

“Echo is a descendant of the Tuatha Dé Danann,” Lexa stated plainly.

“No shit,” Anya’s face morphed from anger to surprise to awe. “Really?”

Lexa nodded, “I didn’t go to any of them for help, by the way. Clarke told Octavia and Raven. Octavia told Echo.”

“Fine,” Anya relented. “But that doesn’t explain why _you_ didn’t tell me.”

Lexa threw herself on the chair in the corner of the room, exhausted from the day and nowhere near up to an argument with Anya. “I didn’t want to involve you. You’re the only family I have. Is it so wrong to want to keep you safe?“

“Ugh,” Anya scoffed as she pulled Lexa’s chair from behind her desk. She rolled it in front of Lexa and took a seat. “You know I can’t stand chivalry.”

They sat in a few minutes of silence, and Lexa was grateful for the momentary reprieve from fairies and leprechauns and magic and her wife resigning to offer her life up to a demon witch. This was supposed to be the best moment of her life. She just married the woman of her dreams, her soulmate. They were supposed to be giggling and trying (or not trying, really) to keep their hands off each other, not hurting each other with kept secrets and revelations.

As pleasant as the moment of relaxation, save her ever-wandering mind, Lexa couldn’t put off the present any further. She leaned her elbows on her knees, looking deep into Anya’s eyes. “How do you even know what’s going on?” she finally asked.

Anya looked around the room at anything but Lexa.

“You hacked into our security cameras again.”

“I hacked into your security cameras again,” Anya grinned, proud as a peacock. “You really should choose less obvious passwords. _LexaLovesClarke2019_ is hardly original.”

Lexa ignored that jab, focusing instead on what Anya had said when she just revealed herself in their doorway in spectacularly dramatic fashion only a few minutes ago. “You said you have a plan?”

“I might.”

Lexa sat up straight, ready for Anya to disclose this grand idea of hers.

“But first,” Anya held up a single finger and pointed threateningly at Lexa. “You tell me everything.”

Lexa relented and in an impressively concise yet accurate summary, relayed to Anya all the events of the past few days. When she finished, Anya kept her impassive face and nodded, “It’s about as bad as I assumed.”

Lexa could only groan and run her fingers through her hair in exasperation.

“So you have no idea where the sword is now?”

Lexa shook her head. “All we know is that Clarke’s father most likely had it and that it’s closer than we think.”

“Not much to go on.”

“Tell me about it.”

“There might be another way,” Anya pulled out her phone, tapping here and there on the unseen screen. “It’s risky. And Clarke definitely won’t like it.”

“I’m not sure we have a choice at this point.”

*******

Lexa stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in her favorite fuzzy towel. The warm heat and humidity of the bathroom engulfed her, hugging her like a sticky embrace. She reached her hand up to the fogged up mirror, dragging her palm along the cool glass to clear up her reflection.

The dark circles under her eyes had lessened a fraction with the minimal amount of sleep she was able to get this morning. They slept in shifts, all working as hard as they could to piece together this wild scheme of Anya’s. It wasn’t that Lexa didn’t like Anya’s plan, but it also wasn’t like she had another choice.

She sighed, her breath coming in stuttered with the heavy weight of what she was about to do. After quickly brushing through her hair, Lexa grabbed the clothes she set out for herself and dressed. She had just fastened the last button on her flannel when familiar arms wrapped around her.

“Hey, darlin’.”

Lexa leaned her whole body back into Clarke, melting with the comfort and love the embrace brought.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Clarke kissed the back of her shoulder, squeezing her a little tighter. “Yesterday. The thing about not wanting a mythical wife. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Lexa nodded, grasping at the hands holding her.

“I know you know, but I need you to really hear it right now. Please?”

Clarke pressed her hands into Lexa’s hips, turning her slowly in her hold. She tucked Lexa’s damp hair behind her shoulder and cupped her face, letting her thumb trace delicately along sharp cheekbones. Lexa smiled, so soft, and Clarke brushed her lips to Lexa’s, just a quick, gentle kiss.

“You’re my person. Elf or not,” Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and took in a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “And I want you to know, just in case we fail, I want you to know, without a doubt, that I-”

“Clarke, don’t-”

“Let me finish,” Clarke smiled. “I want you to know that I love you for who you are, not what you are. And I will continue to do so until my last breath. Okay?”

“Okay,” Lexa nodded. She had to remind herself to breathe because the way Clarke was staring through her, the way her thumbs dragged so softly along her face, the way her entire body leaned in just a fraction, all of it. All of it was so full of adoration and love, and it was damn overwhelming. Especially considering the big lies Lexa was still actively withholding from Clarke.

“Here,” Clarke cut through Lexa’s almost spiral. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the necklace Red had given her the night before. She unclasped the chain, holding an end in each hand. “May I?”

“You want me to wear it?” Lexa choked out.

Clarke held it up again, making it very clear that yes, she wanted her to wear it. Lexa turned and brushed her damp hair away from her neck.

“We don’t know much,” Clarke breathed as she clasped the necklace into place. “But we know my father had this made for a special reason. And you may not be a Griffin, but if anyone is going to figure out how to unlock something about me, it’s you.”

Lexa looked down and ran her fingers along the thin pendant hanging beautifully against her chest. When she turned around, Clarke was holding up the necklace her father gave her all those years ago, the same thin silver design, the same long chain, but very different ogham.

“There,” Clarke smirked and tucked the charm back into her shirt. “Now we match.”

Lexa took in a sharp breath of air, the lies constricting her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Clarke misread her guilt and shook her head with a small smile.

“I know I couldn’t wear it before, with it being such a horrible reminder of the day my dad died, but I’ve actually been wearing it since the day I showed you. It’s made me feel…”

Her fingers trailed along where the pendant hung under her shirt. “It’s made me feel stronger. Like a part of him is giving me courage. Is that weird?”

Lexa couldn’t take it any longer. “I have to tell you something,” she grabbed Clarke’s hand and dragged her to the foot of the bed. They sat down, and Clarke laughed at Lexa’s extreme intensity.

“Let me guess,” she joked. “You’re madly in love with me, and this little gesture with the necklace just skyrocketed me to Heathcliff level?”

“What? Heathcliff level?” Lexa blinked at the very random literary reference. “Clarke, you really should reread _Wuthering Heights_. I think you’ll find their love story is actually a bit…” She contemplated on how to say it. “Unhealthy.”

Lexa shook her head, putting her mind back to the one lie she could confess to right now. “But that’s beside the point. I need to tell you something about your father.”

Clarke’s face fell, and her hand began to warm. “My father?”

Lexa nodded, “When we were in his office yesterday, when I healed some of your pain, I saw a memory.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lexa swallowed down whatever misgivings she had about what she was about to say and pressed on. “When you were a teenager, I don’t know how old, 15 or 16 maybe, you walked in on your father with a leprechaun. There were papers all over your father’s desk. I saw, or I guess you saw, drawings of the Sword of Light, herbs, ogham… but it happened too fast to get a good glimpse of anything useful.”

“I don’t understand,” Clarke’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why don’t I remember any of that?”

“The leprechaun erased your memory of it.”

“What?” Clarke pulled her hand out of Lexa’s grasp.

“Your father asked him to. He didn’t want you exposed to this world until you were older.”

“He messed with my mind?”

“He knew that as soon as you were aware of your heritage, your destiny, your life would be forever changed. He was trying to give you a childhood.”

Clarke shot off the bed in a rage, her eyes hard and furious. “Who are you to defend him? You didn’t know him!” 

She paced the front of the bed, seething as Lexa ducked her head in shame for telling her or keeping it from her for as long as she did, she wasn’t sure. She was so wrapped up in playing what if that she didn’t notice the bed dip next to her. She didn’t even notice Clarke’s presence until the woman in question curled her arm around Lexa’s waist and brought her close.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke tucked her head into Lexa’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault. It’s just my mind, you know? It’s like the only thing we have that is truly our own. And messing with that… I can’t believe he would do that to me. He had no right to do that.”

Lexa turned just enough to pull Clarke into her lap.

“Saving my innocence?” Clarke continued to ramble. “What was the point? I was destined to be wrapped up in all this shit anyway.”

Lexa just held her close, occasionally running her hand up and down her back until Clarke sat up straight. “Thank you for telling me,” she muttered before placing a quick kiss to Lexa’s lips. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

Clarke suddenly sprang from her lap, and Lexa could only sit and watch, confused, as her wife rustled about in the bathroom. Clarke emerged seconds later, her hands full of combs and hair ties. She smiled and sat behind Lexa.

Fingers worked into Lexa’s drying hair, gathering her locks in sections. “What are you doing?”

“Braiding your hair.”

Lexa let her mind relax for a precious few moments. The decision to tell Clarke about the memory turned out okay. Clarke was reasonably upset with the knowledge, yet Lexa was relieved (perhaps a bit concerned) that she was taking it so well. But that was a problem for another time. She wouldn't cause Clarke any further distress if she didn't need to. Not now. Not when the fate of the world was on the line.

She closed her eyes and surrendered to the exquisite feeling of Clarke working her fingers along her scalp, taking care to be gentle when she encountered the random knot.

“You haven’t done this in a long time,” Lexa mumbled.

“I know, but if there were ever a time for some badass Viking braids, now would be it. Oh!” Clarke exclaimed. “Älvor are Nordic, right? Does that mean you’re related to Vikings?”

“I suppose, in a way, I am,” Lexa shrugged, doing her best to keep her head still. “At least their culture.”

“I must have known it all those years ago.”

“You just had a crush on Lagertha,” Lexa teased as she remembered all those hours she spent with Clarke, snuggled up in her dorm room, binging that show while Clarke wove Lexa’s hair into intricate patterns inspired by the woman on the screen.

“I did,” Clarke laughed. “I really did.” She ran her hand down Lexa’s hair, smoothing out a design Lexa couldn’t see.

Warm, soft lips grazed the corner of Lexa’s jaw. “Don’t worry,” Clarke whispered into her heated skin. “You’re hotter.”

Lexa turned her head to catch Clarke’s lips with her own.

“And a better kisser,” Clarke smiled into her mouth.

“How would you know?”

“I can just tell.” Clarke encouraged Lexa to follow her further up the bed. Lexa lifted Clarke up, settling her comfortably on the plethora of pillows adorning their bed before straddling her.

“Your lips were made for mine, darlin’,” Clarke smirked before pulling Lexa down to her.

Their kisses were slow and sensual, just enough to make sure the other could feel how much they were loved. It was the kind of embrace that felt like a goodbye. And with that sobering thought, Lexa pulled away, propping her weight up on her elbows.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lexa pressed a final kiss to Clarke’s perfectly pink and slightly swollen lips. “It is.” With a heavy sigh, Lexa rolled off their bed.

“Lexa?”

Lexa looked down at the hand tugging on hers, encouraging her to turn towards her beautiful wife.

“I love you.”

“Minn lifa fera með ykkarr.”

Clarke grinned. “You said that just before you passed out the other night. What does it mean?”

Lexa leaned over the bed. She kissed the back of the hand in hers, then each corner of Clarke’s mouth before pressing a long kiss to her lips. “It means what you think it means.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but the gleam twinkling in that brilliant blue was anything but annoyed.


	14. “To Kicking Carman Back to Hell”

Lexa stopped at the foot of the stairs, Clarke’s hand firmly wrapped in her own, as she surveyed the multi-faceted arming scene taking place in front of her. Anya stood hunched over a mortar and pestle in the kitchen, frantically grinding away at something. The pounding of the stone created a rhythmic staccato that reverberated throughout the downstairs.

Hundreds of tiny fabric bags the size of Hershey kisses and dozens upon dozens of vials filled with various liquids sat piled beside her in an almost full leather satchel. Lexa’s eyes shot up, impressed with Anya’s productivity. She really shouldn’t have been surprised though. Anya had been studying magical potions and herbs since they were children. The only thing in the magical spectrum she could really do as a human.

Echo stood in the middle of the living room, meticulously drawing a circle of salt on the hardwood floor. She mumbled to Lincoln, and Lexa could only hear about half of the instructions from where she stood. Lincoln nodded, pointing to the candle, no doubt taking in all the advice Echo had to offer regarding keeping the portal open for them.

Octavia stood in the corner of the living room, her eyes staring straight ahead as she swung the machete Lexa usually kept in their garage. The twirls were deliberate and somewhat beautiful to behold, and Lexa just nodded to herself when she remembered that Octavia was actually a skilled martial artist and proficient with a blade.

With a gentle tug, Clarke pulled Lexa out of her observations and into the kitchen. All eyes landed on them without saying a word. No one needed to. They were all well aware that they were about to embark on a journey that nearly guaranteed death and damnation for some of them.

The tension in the air was palpable and electric, and Lexa wondered to herself who would be the first to break it.

It was Clarke. Of course, it was Clarke.

“What?” She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Why are you all looking at me like that? It’s not like a witch bitch is holding my best friend hostage so she can lure me to my death or anything.”

For some unknown reason, that was the funniest thing any of them had ever heard. Their laughter was pure and hearty, and if a neighbor were to hear it, they’d have assumed Clarke was practicing a standup routine rather than lightening the mood with a mediocre at best joke. But just as quickly as the giggles came, it fizzled out, and the tension raced back in at full force.

Lexa gave Clarke’s hand a final squeeze and joined Anya at the counter.

“Everything mixed and ready?”

“Almost,” Anya glanced down at a tiny pile of forest green powder in the bowl in front of her. She stared at Lexa, and the guilt Lexa had been carrying since the night before turned into ice-cold resolve. She gave Anya a firm nod who suddenly whirled around and announced far too loudly, “Shots for luck?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Octavia bounded into the kitchen, sheathing her machete as she went, and Anya disappeared into their walk-in pantry. She appeared only a moment later, brandishing two bottles of liquor.

“Tequila or whiskey?” Anya waved the bottles at the group now congregated around the kitchen island. “‘Marked For Death’ gets to choose,” she nodded towards Clarke.

Lexa punched Anya firmly in the shoulder.

“Ouch! I was just joking.”

“Horrible joke,” Lexa shook her head.

Clarke broke the tension yet again by snatching the whiskey from Anya’s hand.

“Whiskey?” Octavia marveled, placing the back of her hand over Clarke’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Clarke swatted Octavia away with a playful smile. “I don’t really want to do all the work that goes into tequila shots.”

“All the work? Griff, it’s just cutting up a lime and sprinkling some salt.”

“Yeah, as I said,” Clarke nodded. “Work.”

Anya glanced over out of the corner of her eye, and with another nod of affirmation from Lexa, retrieved six shot glasses from the cupboard. She handed out the glasses, being sure to give Clarke her precious Griffin crest souvenir shot glass.

“I, for one,” Lexa smiled as she took the bottle from Clarke, “Am happy with Clarke’s choice.”

“Of course you are,” Anya rolled her eyes. “You’re a whiskey snob.”

Lexa ignored the jab and poured a heavy shot into each glass, including her own. They all could use a little liquid courage at the moment.

“To kicking Carman back to hell!” She raised her glass high in the air, and everyone mimicked her.

“Cheers!” The voices chorused around her. Before Clarke could bring her glass to her lips, Lexa leaned in for a quick kiss. The softness of her lips, combined with the glowing smile in Clarke’s eyes had Lexa’s heart pounding with remorse. She pulled away and downed her shot in time with Clarke.

Clarke grimaced as the alcohol burned her throat, and Lexa slid her empty glass along the granite countertop, never taking her gaze off Clarke. Clarke suddenly squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, and swaying on the spot. The souvenir glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the tile floor.

She steadied herself with both hands on the counter, her eyes widening with realization as she found Lexa. The betrayal etched on her beautiful face scattered the pieces of Lexa’s guilt broken heart along the kitchen floor along with the shards of splintered glass.

Clarke’s eyes welled up with tears, and her voice was barely above a whisper, “What’d you put in my drink?”

Clarke’s knees gave out, but before her body could land on the floor, Lexa wrapped her arms around her, easing her down to the cold tiles and cradling her head in her lap. Clarke’s blue eyes fluttered as she battled to remain in the land of the conscious.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa murmured as a tear fell into Clarke’s blonde hair. “But Carman can’t get your blood. We can’t risk her restoring her full power.”

Clarke fought for a moment longer, but the sleeping powder Anya created was powerful, and Clarke lost the battle. Her eyes closed, and Lexa leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she cradled her wife in her lap.

“Lexa,” Anya’s voice seemed distant, but when she looked up, Anya was squatting right next to her. “Lexa, we should go. Everyone is waiting.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“She’ll forgive you.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes in surprise as Octavia kneeled down in front of the unconscious Clarke. She was the last person Lexa would expect to comfort her at this moment. “She’ll understand.”

Lexa stared down at Clarke. She seemed so peaceful in sleep, despite the betrayal that got her to the state, “I hope so.”

With a deep breath, Lexa slipped her arm under Clarke’s legs and lifted with all her strength. She held her close, hoping and praying that Clarke would indeed forgive her for this one day. Lexa laid Clarke gently on the couch, taking another moment to wallow in her guilt until a huge, warm hand rested on her shoulder.

Lexa turned and stared directly into Lincoln’s eyes, “If you let anything happen to her-”

Lincoln held up both his hands, “I may not have known you for very long, but I know better than to piss off an älvor.”

“Good.”

Octavia stepped in line with Lincoln and placed a protective hand on Clarke’s sleeping shoulder. “And I’ll die before I let that witch bitch touch one hair on her annoyingly pretty head.”

Lexa nodded, leaned down for a final kiss to a soft cheek, and made her way to the center of the living room. Anya joined her, giving her full satchel a final once over. Seemingly finding everything in order, Anya stepped inside the circle of salt. Echo grabbed the two candles resting on the coffee table and lit them, handing one to Lexa.

Lexa surveyed the group a final time, nervously fidgeting with the silver necklace Clarke had given her minutes before. They were as ready as they could be, so with a final last glance at her sleeping wife, she kneeled down to light the circle with Echo.

“Léiríonn tine an bealach, léiríonn tine an bealach, léiríonn tine an bealach…”

The circle ignited, casting an eerie purple over all their tense features. The warm, swirling wind engulfed them, blowing the little wispies that her braids didn’t contain around her head. Lexa slammed her eyes shut, and upon opening them, nearly gasped.

The green of County Clare’s countryside was brilliant in the moonlight, but not quite as awe-inspiring as Castle Griffin looming in the near distance.

“Anya?” a familiar voice called out. Lexa whipped her head towards the sound, her jaw dropping as Anya approached the small leprechaun.

Anya grasped the outstretched hand, and with a warm smile, greeted the leprechaun from Clarke’s memory, “Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Lorcan.”

“Likewise, friend. Your army,” Lorcan gestured behind him. “As discussed.”

Lexa fully took in her surroundings. Mythical folk of all varieties stared back at her. Fairies, leprechauns, clurichauns, kelpies, banshees, enfields, all of them gathered to fight for the safety of the world.

Lexa huffed in mild disbelief as she joined Anya, “I still can’t believe you know all these mythics.”

“I was jealous of you,” Anya shrugged. “This was the only way I could think of to be part of this fantastical world. I studied. I made connections.”

“Yeah,” Echo appeared out of the shadows. “But you’re just so… prickly.”

Anya chuckled and grinned but didn’t retort. She merely walked over to Lorcan and began to discuss what Lexa could only assume were battle tactics.

“Lexa, I presume?”

Lexa looked down to find a small toad-like fairy smirking at her. She nodded and extended her hand. “I’ve never met a changeling before. It’s an honor.”

“Perceptive,” the changeling raised her eyebrows in approval. She held out her hand, palm up, and tapped her foot, waiting. Lexa reached into her pocket and pulled out the photograph she stashed there this afternoon.

“Beautiful,” the changeling muttered as she studied the photo, eyes scrunched in concentration. “I’ve never done this to a full-grown person. Let alone an älvor. Might hurt.”

“I’m ready,” Lexa squared her shoulders and nodded. She wasn’t about to back down from their agreed-upon plan. Not now, not when so many people were counting on her.

“If you say so,” the changeling shrugged. She held up her hands and closed her eyes. Lexa waited, staring down at the pure concentration etched on the changeling’s face.

A glowing heat began to burn in her belly. The fire exploded and danced along her skin. She hissed and grunted as the pain spread from the depths of her soul to the tips of her fingers. Unable to keep her feet beneath her, Lexa fell to her knees as a white light burst in her vision.

But just like that, the pain was gone. Lexa blinked and gasped as she held her hands in front of her. They were so familiar, but not her own.

“Now that is fucking creepy.”

Lexa turned to Anya, her cousin standing, wide-eyed a few feet from her.

“Did it work?” Lexa slapped her hand over her mouth as her voice reached her ears. “Holy shit.”

“My magic is going to counteract with your own,” the changeling dusted her hands on her shirt. “I would give it about half an hour before it wears off.”

Lexa nodded and glanced around at the mythic army surrounding them. Alone, without the sword, they were too weak. With this tiny group of dedicated creatures determined to stop an unspeakable evil from being unleashed upon the world, maybe. Just maybe, they could pull it off.

Echo stepped up next to her, patted her shoulder, and broke her out of her uncharacteristically hopeful daydream.

“Better get a move on,” Echo smirked. “Clarke.”

Lexa reached up and brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face, her fingers catching in the braids Clarke wove not long ago. The fact that her hairstyle remained the same comforted her. It was a piece of Clarke she could take into battle with her, and so, she set her chin and led the march towards Carman.

As the army of mythics strode towards the intimidating castle, all eyes and minds were preoccupied with the war to come. No one noticed the portal glow a vibrant purple. No one took a glance back as the two leprechaun guards were knocked unconscious. No one paid any attention as a dark figure trailed along behind them.


	15. “The One Who Saved the World”

Lexa spared not a glance behind her, taking comfort in the consistent march of feet reverberating off her back. She barely glanced to her side as a presence matched her pace.

“You remember what to do with this?” Anya held out two vials, each the size of a golf ball, and Lexa pocketed them both.

“You sure this will work?”

Anya rolled her eyes, “You may be the mythical one in the family, but I’ve been studying magic longer than you. Trust my brain, okay?”

“Anya,” Lexa grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. “You don’t have to be here-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Anya held up her hands. “I would have done this for Clarke no matter the circumstances, but the truth of the matter is simple. Carman is a bad bitch. If she comes into her full power, I’m going to lose a lot more than a cousin-in-law. The fate of the world is at risk here.”

Lexa couldn’t look away from Anya’s face, so sincere and honest. “Thank you,” she murmured as she pulled Anya in for a tight embrace.

“Yeah, okay,” Anya patted her twice on the back and stepped away. “Are we done with this heart to heart yet? Because it’s really fucking weird when you look and sound like Clarke. It’s monumentally creepy. In fact, I’m going to go walk over there now.”

Lexa smirked as her cousin dropped back to march with Lorcan. She quickly took a deep breath in and continued her trek towards Carman.

Castle Griffin towered in the near distance, and upon reaching the edge of the courtyard, she pulled to a stop. Hundreds of feet behind her halted, their footsteps ceasing to provide a rhythmic comfort.

The moon appeared through the clouds, illuminating the empty courtyard. Lexa took a tiny step forward as she searched for any sign of the witch. The only thing breaking the still night was the sound of bated breath behind her.

A shadow began to form in the middle of the courtyard, swirling and churning until the wisps gave way to the cloaked Carman. She stood, dark and dangerous, the wicked smile on her face distinguishable even from where Lexa stopped.

Lexa squared her shoulders before taking another few steps forward. Carman glided towards her like a predator setting a trap for its prey. “Clarke Griffin,” she cooed, and Lexa was only mildly surprised when she continued in perfect, if not heavily accented English. Echo did warn them that her power had grown stronger as the days passed. Not to her full might, she needed Clarke’s blood for that, but much stronger. “You brought an army. Interesting.”

“Where’s Raven?” Lexa did her best to remain calm and collected despite the pounding of her heart.

“I’ll release her when I have you.”

All well and good, but Lexa was no fool. “How do I know she’s still alive?”

Carman’s smirk seemed proud almost as she waved her hands gracefully through the air. Another shadow appeared just feet in front of Carman, but this time, when it vanished, Raven was slumped on the ground.

Lexa fought her instincts. She wanted to run to Raven, to pull her to safety, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

Carman waved her hand once more, sending Raven’s body sailing through the air, and she landed with a sickening thump halfway between them. Raven groaned, and Lexa’s heart jumped into her throat. She was alive.

Lexa shot a quick nod to Anya before walking out into the courtyard. Her skin prickled as if dozens of spiders were racing around just beneath the surface.

She didn’t have long. The changeling’s magic was wearing off.

Lexa quickened her pace and gave Raven a reassuring smile as she crossed the halfway point. As soon as she did, she heard feet pounding on the grass as Anya and Echo raced to retrieve Raven.

Lexa kept her eyes trained on the witch in front of her, taking in her true appearance for the first time. The witch was all dark. Dark brown hair framed her dark as the night eyes. The black cloak she wore gave her silhouette a majestic sense of power, but all Lexa could concentrate on was the fire burning behind those dark features. The hate was palpable, yet it masked an intense melancholy that Lexa could feel emanating from her.

When Lexa was only a few feet away, Carman reached into her cloak and produced the same dagger she used during her first attack. Her face hardened with the taste of victory, and Lexa had to steel herself.

In a sudden burst of movement, Carman grasped Lexa’s coat and pulled her close. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” she snarled, her breath hot on Lexa’s face.

Lexa remained silent as she glanced over her shoulder. Echo and Anya had just about made it back to the safety of the front line with Raven in tow. Lexa reached a hand to her pocket, taking care to grasp one of the vials Anya handed her.

Carman smiled, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight as she ran the tip of her blade down Lexa’s cheek. Lexa bit back the wince as the blood trickled down her cheek.

“No matter,” Carman hissed. “History will remember the Griffin Girl as the one who brought about the end of the world.”

Lexa pulled out the vial. Now was the time. She raised her hand in the air, about to slam the thing to the ground when a voice called out from behind her.

“Or maybe she’ll be remembered as the one who saved the world.”

Lexa whipped her head to the side. Clarke stood in the courtyard, her eyes hard and determined. Carman glared from Clarke to Lexa, the realization dawning on her. She licked the blood off the blade, spitting as the taste wasn’t what she expected.

Carman’s accompanying growl was low and terrifying, and the magic that began to coil from her hands burned Lexa’s skin. Without warning, Carman tossed Lexa through the air, the vial exploding harmlessly in a puff of smoke feet away from its intended target.

The hard ground knocked the wind clear from Lexa’s lungs, and she gasped as she tried to breathe. Her skin burned and crackled as the last of the changeling’s magic wore off. She stood, using all the strength she could muster and sprinted towards Clarke.

She didn’t have time to wonder how Clarke was there. She didn’t have time to contemplate what on earth was going through Clarke’s head. She didn’t have time to curse Lincoln and Octavia for failing to keep Clarke safe. All she had time to do was rush towards her wife as Carman stalked towards her, dagger in hand.

Lexa slid the last few feet, her legs slipping on the wet dewy, grass, and she threw her shield up. The dagger made contact with the invisible wall causing Carman to stumble backwards.

As the witch lost her footing, Lexa grabbed Clarke by the hand and took off towards the surprised army of mythics. Clarke, thankfully, didn’t protest as they ran for safety. Upon reaching the front line, the mythics parted and surrounded Clarke instantly. They all knew what it would mean if Carman got her blood.

Lexa continued to drag Clarke back and back, and when there were a solid hundred creatures between them and Carman, Lexa whirled around.

But before she could get a word out, Octavia and Lincoln appeared out of the crowd. Blood from a gash on Octavia’s forehead dripped down her panting face. “Clarke woke up.”

“I can see that,” Lexa bit out before turning to Clarke. “You’ve made this far harder than it needs to be. I hope you know that.”

Clarke set her jaw but didn’t retort. Lexa growled, and intent on chewing out Octavia and Lincoln spun to face them. The words were on the tip of her tongue, begging to be unleashed, but they were again silenced by a loud noise.

A blood-curdling shriek pierced the night sky, as the sound of dirt and grass upturning grew louder and louder. Branches and roots erupted from the earth, heading right towards them.

“Get mad at us later,” Octavia brandished her machete. She gave it a terrifying spin and faced the oncoming threat. “Fight now.”

Lexa didn’t see the point in arguing. Octavia was right. There would be time later to chastise, but right now, Clarke was in danger. Lexa took a defensive stance in front of Clarke, letting the magic coil and her palms glow.

“You have no right to die for me,” Clarke grasped Lexa’s arm attempting to push in front of her. “None of you do!”

“Clarke!” Lexa gripped both of Clarke’s shoulders, forcing her to stare into her eyes. “Stop being so stubborn for two seconds and realize that if you die, the world dies. This isn’t about sacrificing for you. Everyone here,” Lexa gestured wildly to the already fighting army. “Is sacrificing for the good of the world. So please. Let us keep you safe.”

“Fine,” Clarke shrugged out of Lexa’s hold. “But you and I are going to have words when this is over.”

Lexa sighed and fought back the small smile that was teasing the corners of her lips. Even in the face of imminent death, Clarke was the most beautifully stubborn woman in the world. Lexa nodded and repositioned her body, ready to protect her soulmate until the final beat of her heart.

As the branches and vines raced closer and closer, the core group surrounded Clarke. Echo’s hands shone a brilliant yellow, her light magic ready to be cast. Octavia brandished her machete, Lincoln towered over her, set to use whatever it is that kelpies used, and Anya had a handful of her tiny pouches, ready to be thrown.

“Where’s Raven?” Clarke bellowed out over the shouts of mythics waging war in front of them.

“I had a group of banshees escort her back to the portal. She’ll be safe,” Echo called out over her shoulder just as the first of the vines reached them.

In what Lexa could only describe as a perfectly choreographed dance of power, they all defended with their personal skills.

Octavia hacked and slashed, sending splinters of chopped plants sailing in the sky. Anya tossed pouch after pouch into the fray, some of them exploding, some of them setting fire to the plants as they came. Echo chanted in Irish, casting the vines back to where they came, and Lincoln had a wall of water big enough to cover their entire house, keeping the plants at bay. Lexa’s shield was at the ready, pushing back the stray attack that penetrated their impressive defense.

With all eyes up, concentrating on the onslaught, no one paid any attention to the small vine as it slithered past their feet like a snake in the night. It crawled, silent as death, and wrapped itself around Clarke’s ankle.

With a sudden yank, Clarke’s body hit the ground with a terrifying thud and lurched forward. Lexa lunged for her wife, grasping at thin air as Clarke was dragged away from her.

“Clarke!”

Lexa sprinted after Clarke’s disappearing body, dodging magical attacks all around her. She weaved in and out of the battle, her focus laser pointed on one thing. She barely heard Lincoln’s voice behind her.

“Octavia! Take my necklace!”

Lexa startled as a stunningly massive black horse galloped towards her. Octavia rode bareback, and as the horse approached, she held out her arm. Octavia yanked Lexa up, and they charged after Clarke.

Lincoln beat his strong legs into the ground, propelling them forward, and they were gaining on Clarke. They were close. So close Lexa could see the terror in Clarke’s vibrant blue eyes. But just when she was about to leap from Lincoln’s back, she was bucked right off.

She hit the ground rolling to break her fall and looked up to find a wall of vines blocking their path.

Desperate to get to Clarke, Lexa raced towards the wall, letting her magic flow to full power. She pushed shield after shield into the barricade, longing for the plants to just die. She caught sight of Octavia slipping the necklace back over Lincoln’s head, and his massive form shrunk down to human.

The three of them hacked away, Lexa with her magic, Octavia with her machete, and Lincoln with his brute strength until finally a hole appeared in the thick foliage.

In the near distance, Clarke hovered, suspended in shadows above an altar, her arm dripping blood from a fresh gash. At the sight, a burst of energy stronger than anything Lexa even dreamed she was capable of erupted from her hands creating a hole just big enough for her to slip through.

Without waiting, Lexa rushed towards them, using her newfound power to send Carman flying through the air. The sickening crash of bones against the castle wall echoed through the night, but all Lexa could see was her soulmate falling to the earth.

Lexa caught her just before Clarke crumpled to the ground. Tears ran down Lexa’s cheeks as she cradled Clarke in her arms, and she gasped in relief as she sensed a heartbeat.

She was alive. Carman did not drain all of her blood.

Lexa quickly sealed the wound just enough to prevent further blood loss and suddenly whipped up as the sound of hooves pounded the ground. Octavia slid off, helping Lexa lift Clarke’s unconscious body onto Lincoln’s back. She climbed up after her, and they escaped the courtyard through the hole in the vines with Octavia sprinting after them.

Lincoln galloped through the mythical army at a quick pace, but Lexa was still able to take stock in the destruction. The ground was chewed up, matted with blood and fragments of plants, but the majority of the creatures seemed fine. All were more or less quiet as they made their way to the relative safety of the back line.

Lincoln pulled to a stop, and Lexa slipped off before carefully laying Clarke down. She wrapped her hands around Clarke’s wound and closed her eyes, healing Clarke fully.

With the wound healed, Lexa just held onto her wife, waiting and praying that she would wake.

“What happened?”

Lexa didn’t look up as she addressed Anya, “Carman drained her blood.”

“All of it?”

Lexa shook her head as she tucked wild blonde hair behind Clarke’s ear.

“What happened to Carman? Why did the attack stop?”

“Lexa blasted the fuck out of her,” Octavia answered for her.

“Dead?”

“I don’t think so.”

Clarke’s eyes fluttered, and Lexa pulled her close. “Clarke? Clarke, are you okay?”

Clarke stirred, her fingers curling into Lexa’s shirt, but whatever response she gave was lost to the howling wind.

Lexa shielded Clarke with her body as a burst of green light engulfed the castle behind them. The clouds rolled in, blocking the moon, and tornado-like gusts cut through the field, tossing dirt and debris everywhere.

Lexa didn’t really care at the moment. She peppered kisses to the top of Clarke’s head, holding her close. She did have the wherewithal to notice the relieved looks of their core group as Clarke stirred, and she did see Lorcan frantically waving Anya over. But Lexa just held her wife tighter.

“Hey, darlin’,” Clarke murmured.

“Hey,” Lexa breathed as Clarke pulled away a fraction.

“Thanks for coming for me.”

Lexa squeezed Clarke closer, “Always.”

“And thanks for not making some remark about how you wouldn’t have needed to do it if I had just stayed behind.”

“I’ll scold you about that later,” Lexa chuckled. Clarke buried her face deep into Lexa’s chest, and Lexa was more than happy to take a moment and breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that Clarke was still alive.

Lexa kept Clarke wrapped up in her arms as she surveyed the scene around her. The mythic army was regrouping, positioning themselves in tight formations facing the castle. Anya and the group were huddled a few feet away, whispering with Lorcan, and Lexa didn’t miss the utter devastation on their faces.

Anya and Echo slowly made their way over, and while they attempted to keep their emotions in check, Lexa was far too observant to be fooled. She stood, pulling Clarke up with her and faced her friends. “So,” she dragged her hands down her face. “How has life decided to fuck us over this time?”

“Carman did not drain enough of Clarke to restore her full powers,” Anya stated the obvious as she gestured towards Clarke.

“But…” Lexa prodded.

“But,” Echo sighed. She worried her jaw and swallowed down whatever fear that was about to burst from her chest. “She drained enough to resurrect her sons.”


	16. “Kill Them All”

“She can do that?” Clarke stood strong, but Lexa could hear the slight wobble in her voice.

Anya shrugged, “Apparently.”

“Now what?”

“Now,” Echo gave a slight nod of her head. “We have four enemies to fight instead of one.”

As if on cue, chaos broke loose over the ready army. What little moonlight remained from behind the clouds was lost to the utter darkness that engulfed them. Lexa could barely make out the outline of Clarke’s face, the only light remaining coming from the eerie green glow from the courtyard. Screams and battle cries drowned out the pounding of her heart, and the smell of burning flesh and wood overwhelmed her senses.

Lexa instinctively reached her hand towards Clarke, and as soon as the familiar contours of her palm were firmly in Lexa’s grasp, she released a sigh of relief. “Don’t let go of me,” Lexa shouted over the cacophony of battle.

She steadied her mind as best she could, feeling the power course through her, ready to use. Straining her eyes into the near-total darkness, Lexa desperately tried to find a weakness, a clue, any information at all that she could use to defeat not only Carman but her three evil sons.

A dark, black mist appeared on the horizon, tumbling towards them at breakneck speed. Lexa’s breath startled every time the sprinting cloud engulfed a mythic creature in its darkness, leaving nothing but a shriek of pain in its wake.

Lexa pulled Clarke behind her just as the mist raced only feet in front of them. Echo pushed past them, chanted a spell, and thrust her hands forward. A brilliant, bright light shot from her hands, dissolving the dark cloud into thin air. She threw a smug smirk over her shoulder, but her moment of gloating was brief. An explosion rocked the very ground they were standing on, and in a flash, Echo tore off towards the noise.

“Lexa,” Clarke tugged on her hand. “We have to do something. Carman will never stop. We need to end this. Now.”

Despite her instinct to stay on the defensive, Clarke had a point. Carman was still a threat and needed to be defeated, but how? What could Lexa, with the help of solely human Clarke, possibly do to overcome a nearly immortal demon witch and her three sons?

Lexa stared directly into Clarke’s eyes, searching for an answer. She gasped. She reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out the one remaining vial Anya had given her.

“What’s that?” Clarke picked up the vial, studying its blood-red contents.

“Anya’s secret recipe.”

Clarke handed it back to Lexa with a confused look. “What does it do?”

“It-” Lexa snapped her head towards the thunderous explosion in front of them. The enormous ball of fire flung rubble and what Lexa only assumed were bodies shooting through the air. She turned back towards Clarke and grasped both her hands. “We don’t have much time. The mythics are losing ground.”

Another explosion, closer this time, shook the ground, and Lexa tucked Clarke into her, shielding her from the flying debris.

“Do you think you can distract Carman?”

Clarke stepped out of the embrace with a wild look in her eyes. “What?”

“If you can keep your distance but get her talking, I can sneak from behind and hit her with this. We can still make Anya’s original plan work. It has to work.”

“And her sons?”

“I’m hoping that with Carman gone, they’ll disappear.”

Clarke quickly surveyed the losing battle in front of her. She turned back with a newfound determination and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Lexa mustered up a reassuring smile before turning to face the battle. She conjured her shield, and holding it out in front of her, sprinted forwards, dragging Clarke close behind. They wove through the carnage, often having to remind themselves not to stop and try to help the fighting mythics. As much as it pained Lexa to witness the destruction, she had one task, one shot to end this once and for all.

Within minutes, Lexa pushed Clarke up against the vine wall, hiding her from Carman’s sight. Lexa peered through the hole she carved not long ago. Carman hovered fifty feet above the ground, grinning at the view before her.

Lexa looked deep into Clarke’s eyes, sending as much faith and courage and love into her as she could. With the most encouraging smile she could create, given the circumstances, Lexa leaned in and kissed Clarke’s cheek. She nodded and took off to find a way around back of Carman.

But a hand wrapped around her forearm, holding her in place.

“Wait! Lexa, I want you…” Clarke faltered. Her eyes were wide and wet, and it didn’t take a soulmate to see through Clarke’s usual bravado and find fear. Lexa stroked Clarke’s cheeks, urging her to finish what she needed to say.

“I need you to tell me everything will be alright,” Clarke whispered. “That’s all I want right now.”

The words broke Lexa’s heart. She reached up, tangling her fingers in Clarke’s hair and pressed a desperate kiss to Clarke’s lips. “I’m not about to let some witch bitch destroy the world or worse, kill my wife.”

Clarke let out a watery laugh. “Not sure those two situations are ranked properly.”

“They are for me.” With a final quick kiss, Lexa snuck off around the outskirts of the courtyard.

It didn’t take long for Lexa to find a weak point around the outer edge of the vine wall. With a few strong blasts of her shield, Lexa snuck into the yard. Dodging behind crumbled castle walls, Lexa positioned herself behind the hovering witch.

As if their minds were one, Clarke appeared, stalking slowly but confidently through the hole in the wall.

“Hey, Carman,” Clarke called, cool as a cucumber, stopping a considerable distance away. “Ready to die?”

“I am a god,” Carman laughed. She lowered herself down to the ground with an amused tilt to her head. “I have never understood humanity’s unwarranted hubris.”

From her position, Lexa could clearly see the dagger as Carman pulled it from her cloak. The sight was almost enough for Lexa to abandon her plan and rush to protect Clarke. But she couldn’t. Not when they were so close. So Lexa gave herself a reassuring nod and crept out of her hiding spot.

Clarke shrugged in the distance, doing her part to keep Carman preoccupied. “Oh, I don’t know, Carman. Some humans are arrogant assholes, I’ll give you that. But right now, I think it’s you who has that fatal flaw. Last I checked you’re no more than a half-powered witch who can’t even defeat a powerless human like me. Claiming you’re a god? Now that is some unwarranted hubris.”

Lexa wrapped her fingers around the cool vial and held it in the ready position. Carman was only twenty feet away. Just a little closer and Lexa could accurately throw the potion.

But lady luck was not on her side tonight.

Vines and roots sprung from the ground, entangling Lexa in a viselike grip. She struggled and fought, but the plants just twisted tighter around her. Carman turned, shaking her head, and approached with an evil glint in her eye.

Lexa was utterly helpless as Carman tilted her head from left to right, studying the very essence of Lexa’s soul.

“What are you?” Carman tsked.

“Älvor,” Clarke’s voice rang out through the night as a sharp branch burst from Carman’s chest.

Clarke shoved the limb in farther as Carman’s wail pierced Lexa’s ears. Carman spun, yanking the branch from her chest, fire in her eyes, slashing her dagger through the air.

The moment of distraction was all Lexa needed.

She used all the strength she had and managed to wiggle her hand free of the roots. The vial exploded at Carman’s feet, and the smoke twisted and twirled around her, freezing her movements as still as a marble statue.

Clarke rushed past the frozen witch and broke Lexa free, wrapping her in a tight hug. When she pulled away, Lexa gasped at the sight of blood soaking her arm.

“I’m fine,” Clarke shook her head.

A sudden burst of lightning cracked through the air, illuminating the still raging battlefield. Another bolt struck just feet away from where they stood. Lexa grabbed Clarke and raced back behind the relative safety of the vine wall.

Once there, Lexa pulled down Clarke’s sleeve, examining her wound.

“She just nicked me,” Clarke sighed. “It’s fine.”

Lexa ignored Clarke’s protest and quickly healed her. “My heart is getting tired of this shit,” Lexa sighed.

“Tell me about it.” As Lexa finished healing her wound, Clarke brought her hand to her chest, resting Lexa’s palm over her heart. “Mine hasn’t slowed down since I saw Carman fling you halfway across the courtyard.”

“I’m okay,” Lexa smiled, taking comfort in the beating heart against her hand.

“Is she dead?”

Lexa looked over her shoulder at the raging war. “Just frozen,” Lexa turned back to Clarke. “Anya said it should last for ten minutes. We have ten minutes to concentrate all the mythic’s powers on one target.”

Lexa’s fingers twitched with the near impossibility of that task and tangled in the chain around Clarke’s neck. As her touch grazed the dangling silver pendant, her own burned against her chest.

Lexa hissed as the charm seared her skin.

“What is it?” Clarke startled, gripping Lexa’s arm.

“The necklace.”

Lexa untangled her fingers, and as soon as they were no longer in contact with Clarke’s pendant, the fire disappeared.

Lexa’s mind raced, and goosebumps tingled all over her body as the realization washed in. She was the key.

“Lexa, what’s wrong?”

“Your necklace,” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s chest. “Take it off.”

Clarke obeyed with a very alarmed look on her face, and Lexa did the same. She hung the chain over her hand so the pendant dangled against her palm, and she was pleased, but not surprised, that Clarke mirrored her.

With a deep breath, Lexa reached forward, pressing their palms together and wrapped her long fingers around Clarke’s hand.

A radiant red glowed at the touch, and Lexa could only stare at their joined grasp as something tickled their palms.

“Lexa?”

Lexa didn’t answer. She instead put all her focus on the energy currently pulsing around their hands. And then, out of their hold, gleaming metal appeared. It grew, up and up, twisting and turning until they were holding onto the hilt of a stunning sword.

The Sword of Light.

It glowed, casting a warm calming light on Clarke’s face.

“Oh, shit,” Lexa mumbled under her breath. She released Clarke’s hand, letting the rightful owner hold the god-killer.

The blade pulsed, brilliant and bright, as if it recognized Clarke.

“Oh, fuck!” Clarke exclaimed.

Lexa grinned. “No need to be dramatic.”

“How?” Clarke stuttered as she stared at their way to win. “At Red’s. I had mine on. But nothing…”

“Guess you needed a little half älvor magic.”

Clarke took a step back and twirled the sword in her hand, testing the feel of it. Lexa marveled as the blade cut through the dark night, leaving a trail of light in its wake. Lexa didn’t need to see the smile that adorned her wife’s face. She could feel the optimism and could taste the victory just as well as Clarke could.

A cry of rage cut through their celebration, and they both shot their eyes to the sky as Carman flew into the air. The witch circled the battlefield, no doubt searching for them.

“Damn,” Lexa sighed. “Guess Anya was off on the ten-minute timeframe.”

Lexa looked around her, and upon spying an unusually thick and leafy portion of the wall, dragged Clarke to it. She tucked her up against the vines, pulling a few loose to conceal Clarke better.

“You hide here,” Lexa held up her hand, stopping Clarke’s protest before it began. “Carman and her sons will be looking for you. I’ll go find Anya and Echo. Wait for us to distract her sons. Then take your chance.”

Lexa could see Clarke’s brilliant mind work through the plan, desperately trying to poke a hole in it or come up with something better. But in the end, Clarke just darted forward, placed a desperate kiss to Lexa’s lips, smirked, and hid amongst the vines.

Lexa took off into the field, keeping her shield up and pushing through the attacks of magic. It didn’t take long to find Anya’s position. It was the only place surrounded by broken vials and pouches and a giant wall of water. Lexa sprinted towards the boulder and vaulted over, landing next to Anya and startling Lincoln.

“We have it,” Lexa shouted before Anya or Lincoln could form a word.

“Have what?”

“The sword,” Lexa confirmed. She grabbed a tiny vial from Anya’s almost depleted satchel and tossed it towards a giant branch that was shooting towards them. The branch froze on the spot before shattering into a thousand splinters. “The Sword of Light,” Lexa smiled. “We have it. Come on! We need to distract the sons so Clarke can take out Carman.”

“Thank fuck,” Anya draped her satchel over her shoulder and stood at the ready. “I was running out of potions and herbs.”

Lexa led the attack back towards the courtyard, recruiting mythics as she went. It would seem as if the sons weren’t at full power yet either, as she was pleased to find so many still alive and fighting.Perhaps lady luck was on their side after all.

They pushed forward to the wall of vines. Echo spearheaded a group of faeries, all chanting and casting light, beating back Dub’s night mist. Octavia charged Dian who appeared to have inherited his mother’s control over the roots and vines. She hacked and slashed, destroying everything in her path, and soon a pack of leprechauns, or perhaps they were clurichauns, joined in cutting away with their tiny knives.

Dother continued to throw exploding fireballs at the oncoming army, but Lincoln and his kelpie team’s wall of water combined with Anya’s precisely timed use of her freezing potions had him stumbling backwards in retreat with his brothers.

The army was gaining ground, all following Lexa’s lead as she battled towards the barrier, pushing her shield out at anything in her path. All three sons retreated behind the wall, regrouping with their mother, as far as Lexa could tell.

Her heart pounded fiercely as the adrenaline coursed through her body. This was it. They had pushed the sons back as far as they could. She paused in front of the wall, and the charging army stopped behind her.

“Anya! Echo!” she shouted over her shoulder. When the sounds of footsteps were near, she pulled the power from her core and held out her hands. “On three,” she commanded. Echo nodded and readied her cast, Anya dug into her satchel and produced three small orange vials. “One, two, three!”

Lexa pushed her hands forward, sending the shield out towards the vine wall. Echo’s light and Anya’s potions hit at the same time, and in a flurry of flames and pale blue light, the barrier disintegrated.

The army of mythics cheered jubilantly behind her, but the celebration ceased when they took sight of what was beyond the wall.

Carman stood protectively in front of her sons, who cowered behind the altar. Her cloak billowed in the wind, making her appear far larger and far more intimidating. She raised her hands, and the sound of cracking earth followed. The ground churned as vines began to grow and shoot towards them once again.

A lone figure stalked out from the shadows, her silhouette illuminated from the shimmering sword in hand.

Clarke stopped in the middle of the courtyard, the Sword of Light gleaming at her side. If Lexa had to describe the most heroic thing she’d ever witnessed, she would choose this moment. Clarke’s body stood straight and tall, her shoulders squared and ready. She gripped the sword in her left hand, and with a sly smirk, raised it in front of her.

“Claíomh Solais,” Carman growled.

“Damn right, witch bitch.”

Every single person and creature held their breath as the standoff dragged on. Lexa’s palms itched, sweat dripped down her brow, and she fought back the urge to run towards her wife, to protect her.

In a flash, Carman shrieked and lunged towards Clarke, pulling her dagger out as she went. Clarke drew the sword back and thrust it forward just as Carman collided with her.

For a few tense seconds, both women stood, tangled up in each other, and Lexa was about to scream with worry. Suddenly, Carman stumbled backwards, grasping at her chest. Lexa glanced at Clarke, the gleaming sword she held in her hand dripped with an unnaturally dark red blood. Carman’s dagger was clean.

Clarke did it. She fucking did it.

A slow murmur erupted behind her, growing in intensity as reality sunk in. Anya wrapped her arms around Lexa, pulling her close, but Lexa couldn’t celebrate. A deep pang exploded in her gut, and she whipped her head towards the still stumbling Carman.

The witch made it back to the altar and dipped her hands in the pool of Clarke’s blood. She gathered her own burgundy blood in her hand, mixing the two.

“The one to wield Claíomh Solais is unstoppable. Only a human can wield Claíomh Solais. So human I shall be.”

Carman dragged her blood-soaked hands down her face and chanted into the night. “Do chuid fola. Mo chuid fola. Ár gcomhlacht. To aíma sas. To aíma mou. To sóma mas.”

“What’s she doing?” Lexa gaped. She shot a glance to Echo whose face was ghostly white in fear. “Echo. What’s going on?”

Lexa’s head whipped back to the courtyard in time to see Carman throw her arms out to the side, and her heart plummeted when Clarke mimicked her. Clouds rushed in, and in a burst of lightning, both Carman and Clarke crumpled to the ground.

“Clarke!”

Lexa sprinted towards her wife but strong hands pulled her back. She growled and screamed, fighting to escape Echo and Lincoln’s solid grasp. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

Lorcan suddenly dodged around them, dashing towards Clarke’s limp body. Lexa struggled and fought as he leaned his head to Clarke’s chest.

“S’all right, young lass!” Lorcan called out to her. “I hear a heartbeat. She’s all right!”

The grip around Lexa’s arms lessened only a fraction, and she dipped her head in relief. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the three sons lift Carman’s body and entomb it in a sarcophagus of plants. But all of her attention whipped back to Clarke.

She began to stir, and Lorcan curled his arm around her helping her sit up. Clarke looked around, her eyes finally falling on the sword. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt, and in a flash of light, sunk the sword deep into Lorcan’s chest.

“No!” Anya dropped to her knees as Lorcan crumpled to the ground dead.

Lexa stopped fighting altogether, her stomach queasy as she tried desperately to comprehend what she just saw.

“Only a human can wield the sword,” Echo gasped. “Carman sent her soul into Clarke’s body before her own died. She can wield it.”

Echo froze as an idea swirled in her head.

“No,” Lexa shook her head, terrified that she knew what conclusion Echo had leapt to.

“Only a human can wield the sword,” Echo turned to Anya who had made her way over. “Humans are mortal.”

“No!” Lexa shouted at the conspiring women.

“This is our chance-” Anya nodded.

“I said, no!” Lexa lunged and threw herself in front of them, her palms glowing brilliant blue.

“Lexa,” Echo held up her hands in peace. “Sometimes you must sacrifice the one to save the many.”

“She’s my wife!” The magic exploded from Lexa’s fingertips, creating a crater in front of Echo, narrowly missing her. She stalked towards them, ready to knock some sense into her supposed friend and cousin.

A voice, familiar yet dripping with animosity Lexa had never heard before, stopped her in her tracks. “Dub, Dother, Dian,” Clarke called out as she brandished the sword. Carman’s three sons appeared behind her, flanking her like the tiny evil army they were.

“Kill them all.”


	17. “There’s Always a Choice”

The sons flew past Clarke in a rage. Darkness engulfed the battlefield once again, brightened only by the flashes of magic. Clarke twirled Claíomh Solais in her hand, gleaming as she watched the havoc in front of her.

Lexa tore her attention from her wife and stared at Anya and Echo, silently begging them not to do what they were about to do. With a glance at each other, Anya and Echo took off towards Clarke. Lexa sprinted after them, desperate to catch up, to prevent them from killing her soulmate.

She ducked and dodged the exploding ground, slowly gaining on the women racing in front of her. As they pushed past the pile of broken wall, Lexa pulled her hand back and shot forward her shield. The invisible barrier landed just in front of Anya, and she collided with the wall, nearly toppling to the ground.

Echo whipped around, staring at her as Lexa twisted her hand, causing the shield to form a dome over them, trapping them where they stood.

“You can’t do this!” Lexa shouted at them, shaking her head and holding back the tears of anger and betrayal. The battle raged around them, muffled by Lexa’s magic.

“There’s no other choice,” Anya looked heartbroken but resolute as she pleaded with Lexa.

“There’s always a choice!”

“Lexa, let us go,” Anya approached her, her footsteps slow and purposeful as if she were trying not to spook a scared horse. “You’re pragmatic. Think about this with your head for a second.”

“I can’t just let you kill my wife.” Lexa’s resolve was cracking. Anya held up her hands and took another tentative step towards her.

“That’s not your wife.”

Anya pointed out towards the courtyard. Clarke stood at the ready, sword glowing in her hand as a band of fairies approached. The first fairy reached Clarke, and in a flash of light, Clarke ruthlessly cut her down. But when the second approached, and Clarke pulled her sword back, ready to attack, her hand wavered. Clarke shook her head, growling at the sky.

Clarke was fighting off Carman.

“That is!” Lexa gasped, facing Anya. “You saw that! Clarke is still fighting. We have to let her fight!”

Anya gripped Lexa’s shoulders, her eyes were red and wild yet compassionate. “I’m so sorry. If there was any other way to stop her…” Anya shook her head. “But there isn’t. Carman is too powerful. And with the sword and her sons… She’s going to destroy the world, Lexa. She almost did last time. We can’t stand here and let that happen. Not when we can stop it.”

“But it’s Clarke…” was all Lexa was able to say.

She couldn’t put into words everything that Clarke was to her. She couldn’t articulate how coming home after a long day at work to find Clarke cursing over the stove as she burned dinner made her heart flutter. She couldn’t express how her body sung when Clarke leaned her head on her shoulder while they watched crappy television. She couldn’t say that her world would shatter without Clarke in it.

“I know,” Anya shook her head once again as if she knew every thought Lexa was feeling. “I know.”

Anya squeezed Lexa’s shoulder, and the gesture snapped something deep within her. She wasn’t about to give up on Clarke, despite what Anya thought. Clarke was a survivor, a fighter. Lexa knew that the moment she met her.

Lexa shoved Anya backwards, and just as she was about to raise her hands, to use her magic to incapacitate Anya, strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her hands behind her back.

“Sorry,” Echo murmured as she sealed Lexa’s hands with a magical binding.

“You bitch!” Lexa growled as her shield dome dissolved into the ground. “Let me go!”

“Sorry,” Echo stalked around front of her and helped Anya to her feet. “We’ve come to the conclusion that we can’t rely on you to make rational decisions.”

With a wave of her hands and a muttered spell, Echo sent Lexa soaring through the air. The battle raged beneath her as she flew back and back towards the glowing purple portal. Lexa twisted her hands, wriggling free just enough to push her shield out and break whatever binding Echo cast on her. She slammed to the ground, just feet from the portal.

Lexa rolled up on her feet and took off towards the front line. She had to reach Clarke first. She couldn’t let Anya and Echo kill her, but the task seemed near impossible. She was over a quarter-mile away from Clarke, and Anya and Echo would reach her far quicker than she would.

Lexa’s desperation pooled in her core as she sprinted. She blinked. The battle around her slowed to a crawl, but her legs pounded the earth just as fast as before. Lexa smirked, easily dodging attacks and weaving in and out of mythical creatures.

The mythics were taking a beating. Several lay on the ground, clutching at open wounds or tending to injured friends. The scene was hard to witness, but love was a powerful motivator. Lexa kept her eyes forward, racing towards her destination.

Within a few minutes, Lexa leapt over the remnants of the vine wall and found her core group in a vicious battle with Carman’s magic. Roots and branches attacked her friends from all angles, and Clarke stood to the side, grinning at the scene. Lexa didn’t stop running. She tore past Clarke and slid behind a crumbling fountain, leaning her back against the cold stone.

The shrieks and booms of battle rang sharply in her ear as time seemed to right itself. Lexa peered around the wall of the fountain, and her heart skipped a beat.

Echo and Anya broke free of the attack, approaching Clarke side by side.

“Carman,” Echo greeted calmly, taking a ready position.

Clarke laughed manically. “You’re related to the Tuatha Dé Danann,” she marveled.

“Good guess.”

“I suppose you’re here to kill me this time?”

“You suppose correctly.”

“Do your worst.”

“Gladly.”

With that, Echo launched her attack, casting blow after blow towards the witch. Clarke parried the light, using her sword to absorb each spell. Anya tossed a few pouches and vials in time with Echo’s magic, each narrowly avoiding a direct hit.

Clarke’s body began to shake with exhaustion, and the attacks grew closer and closer.

Lexa jumped from her hiding spot, racing towards the duel. She could do nothing but run as Echo was flung a few feet away after being hit by a powerful branch. Lexa could do nothing but sprint as Anya was blasted down to the ground.

Clarke swung her sword through the air, slashing at Anya as she slammed to the earth. Lexa’s breath caught in her throat.

She slid in front of Anya, hoping and praying that Clarke missed her target. Anya sat forward, the cut strap of her satchel snapped in two, sending her bag and its contents tumbling to the ground.

But before Lexa could sigh in relief, a flash of light streaked towards them.

Lexa threw her shield up in the nick of time, deflecting the killing strike before it made contact.

Clarke howled in frustration, and with her right hand, pushed forward. The magic exploding from her fingertips glowed red as it slammed against Lexa’s pale blue shield.

Lexa grunted, pulled her feet under her, and stood.

“Echo!” She shouted over her shoulder. “Echo! Get Anya out of here.”

“Lexa…” Echo’s voice shook as she pulled Anya up. “You don’t have to be the one to…”

“Now!”

Echo dragged Anya away. With her cousin safely out of harm’s way, Lexa turned back towards Clarke.

Sweat dripped from her brow as she pushed her shield out. Her hand shook with the power, struggling to keep it sturdy against Clarke’s brutal attack. Lexa raised her other hand, adding a boost of magic, and Clarke stumbled backwards.

She growled again, and the look of pure fury in Clarke’s usual loving eyes damn near broke Lexa. Lexa wanted to drop the shield, to surrender, but she couldn’t. Clarke smirked and raised the Sword of Light with her left hand.

She held her magic against Lexa’s and slowly pushed the tip of the blade through both barriers. It inched closer and closer, cutting through Lexa’s shield like a hot knife through butter. Lexa groaned as she held on, urging all the power she retained into her hands. The sharp gleaming metal slowed but didn’t stop. Clarke hissed through her teeth, pushing harder.

The tip of the sword was inches away. Lexa could feel the heat of the glowing blade singeing her skin. Her eyes widened; it was about to make contact with her when suddenly, Clarke stumbled backwards.

Her eyes brightened, and her face softened her beautiful features back to the Clarke Lexa knew. The moment of lucidity was all Lexa needed. The tiny glimmering red vial shone like a beacon amongst Anya’s spilled potions. Lexa sank to her knees, keeping the shield up with one hand, and grasped the potion.

She slammed the vial to the ground at Clarke’s feet, and the smoke twirled around her, freezing her in place. Clarke’s body began to tilt, the angle in which she was paralyzed too extreme. Lexa caught her just before she hit the ground.

Lexa held Clarke’s still body in her lap, pushing a strand of blonde hair from her face.

“Do it.”

Clarke’s voice was so quiet and weak, it was almost lost to the wind. Lexa looked down to find kind blue eyes staring into her own.

“Please…”

Lexa followed Clarke’s gaze to the Sword of Light lying nearby.

“No,” Lexa shook her head, the tears running freely down her cheeks. “No, Clarke. I can’t.”

“You can,” Clarke whispered. “You have to. It’s the only way.”

Lexa slammed her eyes shut. No. Clarke couldn’t be asking her to do this. She couldn’t want this. Echo and Anya were wrong. There had to be another way to defeat Carman. There had to be.

Clarke’s fingers twitched as the potion began to wear off, and Lexa’s heart hammered at the impossible decision she had to make in a matter of moments.

“Yes,” Clarke’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Look into the eyes of the woman you love. Your soulmate,” Carman hissed. “Watch as the life drains from her. At your hand. Curse yourself to a life of suffering. Do it. Make another bad decision.”

Lexa looked away, desperate to see anything but the hatred in Clarke’s eyes as Carman took back over. The battle waged on in front of her. The sons had pushed forward, finally wearing down her army. Bodies slumped lifelessly in piles, and the howls of pain and suffering pulled in the pit of her stomach.

Lexa wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the sword; it glowed softly at her touch. “Every bad decision I made,” she shook her head. “I made with good intentions.”

Lexa leaned forward and pressed a final watery kiss to Clarke’s forehead. She kept her lips on Clarke as she slid the sword cleanly through Clarke’s abdomen.

A shrill chorus of cries pierced the night sky as the sons rushed towards her. Lexa stared down through her tears as a dark shadow curled from Clarke’s wound. It swirled and churned in the air before twisting and shooting out towards the oncoming sons. The shadow surrounded them.

The wind kicked up, tossing leaves and debris everywhere, but Lexa just held on to her wife’s body. With a final howl, the breeze disappeared, taking the shadow and the sons with it.

The moon appeared from behind the clouds, illuminating the courtyard in soft blue light. Lexa gazed upon Clarke’s face, letting her sorrow and guilt eat her alive.

Hands wrapped around her forearms, and Lexa gasped as Clarke’s eyes flew open. She pulled the sword from Clarke’s abdomen, covering it tightly with her hand. “Clarke?” Lexa held her close. “Clarke?”

“Hey, darlin’,” Clarke coughed. Blood stained the corner of her mouth, and Lexa leaned her head into Clarke’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

“We did it,” Clarke whispered, her grip on Lexa’s arms faltering. “Carman is dead. I can feel it. We did it.”

“Shh,” Lexa wiped the blood from her face but more quickly replaced it.

“Remember what I told you?” Clarke smiled softly. “I wasn’t wrong. I love you until my last breath.”

“No, Clarke,” Lexa shook her head, desperate to make Clarke keep fighting. “No! Don’t leave me. Please...”

Clarke’s body went limp in her arms, and her face drained of all its usual color, leaving it ghostly pale.

A warm arm wrapped around her shoulder, urging her up, but Lexa shrugged out of the embrace. She pressed both her hands back to Clarke’s still bleeding wound and conjured all the love and power she had coursing through her and channeled it into her hands.

Anya tried to pull her away again. “Lexa,” her voice broke. “She was stabbed with Claíomh Solais. A strike from that is infallible. You can’t heal this.”

“Get off of me!” Lexa pushed her away and pressed her hands back to Clarke. “She’s not dead,” Lexa muttered under her breath. “It wasn’t an infallible strike. Only a human can wield the sword. Half human. I’m only half human. The sword wasn’t at full power. It wasn’t infallible.”

Her hands shone and glowed, and the magic warmed Clarke’s cooling skin. But the wound remained open, unhealing.

“She can’t die.” The tears blurred Lexa’s vision. “I can heal her. I can do this.”

Lexa kept the magic flowing, ignoring all the pitiful looks from the growing crowd of mythics. Murmurs of sympathy echoed in her ear, but they meant nothing. Not when the love of her life laid unmoving on the ground.

A warm, comforting hand landed on her back. Lexa looked up, surprised to see Lincoln staring back not with pity, but with hope. Her hands grew brighter as his magic combined with her own.

Clarke’s wound began to seal.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa saw Lincoln extend his arm, and Echo grasped it. The surge of magic pulsed into Lexa’s chest and out her hands.

Color flooded Clarke’s cheeks once again. And as the wound sealed itself, Clarke gasped, sitting straight up.

Lincoln backed away as Clarke stared at the group surrounding them. Echo had her face buried in her hands as Anya consoled her. Octavia stepped forward and slowly intertwined her hand with Lincoln’s, her cheeks as tear-streaked as Lexa’s. A smattering of banshees, leprechauns, and fairies all stood, wide-eyed and unspeaking.

“What?” Clarke broke the awed tension. “Why are you all looking at me like that? It’s not like a witch bitch possessed my body, and then the love of my life had to stab me with a magical sword to-”

Lexa interrupted Clarke with an urgent kiss. She pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her as tight as she could. It was messy and uncoordinated and terribly unlike Lexa to show so much PDA while surrounded by strangers, but she didn’t care. She kissed Clarke like there was no tomorrow because, for her, there almost wasn’t one.


	18. “They Did Save the World”

If this were a movie, Lexa, Clarke, Anya, Octavia, Lincoln, and Echo would have walked back towards the portal shoulder to shoulder, side by side. Time would have slowed down. They would have strutted their best strut in an epic slo-motion saunter.

But this wasn’t a movie, and the crew dragged their tired and bloodied bodies across the destroyed battlefield, stopping every few moments for Lexa to heal injured mythics. Clarke kept one hand firmly in Lexa’s grasp, the other wrapped around Claíomh Solais.

The portal was still miraculously open, and they all stepped in, disappearing in a swirl of wind one by one until only Lexa and Clarke remained.

Lexa smiled at Clarke, gesturing towards the portal. “After you.”

But Clarke didn’t move. She tugged at their still joined hands and pulled Lexa away. She drew her fingers along Lexa’s cheek, and Lexa leaned into the warm and soothing touch.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lexa mumbled. She pressed her hand to Clarke’s, keeping it in place along her jaw. “I should be the one asking you that question.”

Lexa released Clarke and gently pulled up the hem of her shirt. The angry scar bisected her otherwise perfect skin. Lexa reached out and traced the length of it with delicate fingers, guilt pooling in her belly as she did.

“I’m so sorry,” Lexa blinked back her tears. “I did what I thought-”

Clarke silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Lexa. You did the right thing.”

“But I-”

“It had to be done, and I told you to do it,” Clarke removed Lexa’s hand from her belly and brought her fingers to her lips. She pressed a warm kiss to the palm of Lexa’s hand. “That’s why I asked if you were okay. It couldn’t have been easy to do what you did. I’m not sure I could have…”

“You would have,” Lexa shook her head. “You’re so much stronger than I am.”

“You’re the one who brought me back from near death. I think you win the strong argument tonight,” Clarke smirked and landed a playful nudge to Lexa’s shoulder.

“I healed you with a lot of help. It wasn’t all me.”

“Do you really think anyone out there tonight could have done what you did?” Clarke half laughed. “Darlin’, that was some serious soulmate shit you pulled.”

Lexa couldn’t say anything. She just reveled in the way Clarke casually played with her fingers while they just smiled at each other.

“So, what are we going to do with this?” Clarke waved the sword a safe distance to the side.

“It’s yours to protect,” Lexa shrugged. “You get to decide.”

Clarke held the sword in front of her face, staring at the ogham inscription etched into the hilt. “Is é grá-”

Lexa slapped her hand over Clarke’s mouth. “Are you insane?”

“Relax,” Clarke laughed as she peeled Lexa’s fingers off her face. “One perk of having that witch bitch inside me-” Clarke wrinkled her nose in disgust- “Yeah, I just heard that out loud. Gross. Let me re-phrase. The only good thing from having that witch bitch possess me was access to her knowledge of languages. Ogham and Irish included. So trust me here.”

Lexa lowered her eyes, searching Clarke for any sign of doubt, and finding none, stepped back.

Clarke winked at her before continuing to read the inscription aloud. “Is é grá an chosáin chun solais.”

The sword glowed a brilliant red as it shrunk down before their eyes until two familiar necklaces hung from Clarke’s hand once again.

Clarke held up Lexa’s and motioned for her to turn around. Lexa did so without protest, holding her hair up and out of the way. “What did that mean?”

Clarke clasped the necklace in place and handed hers to Lexa.

“The path to light is love.”

Lexa fastened Clarke’s chain around her neck and turned her. “A bit on the nose.”

“A bit,” Clarke smirked. “But I guess I was right in assuming you’d be the key to figuring it out.”

Clarke traced her fingers along Lexa’s necklace, both pendants burning red.

“It was right in front of us the whole time,” Clarke shook her head. “Yours says _‘an eochair,’_ mine _‘an caomhnóir.’_ The key and the guardian.”

“If only ogham weren’t such a difficult language to decipher.”

“Eh, we could have worked harder to figure it out.”

“Oh, really? When?” Lexa crossed her arms. “In between random break-ins, sneaking around the Mythic Library, daring motorcycle chases, a treasure hunt in your childhood home, a trip to a jeweler, and prepping for a good vs evil battle for the fate of the world? I think we did pretty well for being so busy these past few days.”

“It has been a whirlwind.”

Lexa pulled Clarke close, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she whispered into Clarke’s blonde waves.

“Me too.”

Clarke’s body rose and fell in Lexa’s hold, the deep sigh shared between them. They stood, staring out over the Irish countryside, content to just be in each other’s arms.

“We should get back.”

“Yeah,” Clarke nuzzled her head into Lexa’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to her skin. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Lexa smiled and led Clarke back to the portal. They stepped through, hand in hand, and wind and warmth enveloped them until they were standing in the middle of their living room.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” Lexa gaped at the scene before her. Music blasted from their speakers as a merry band of fairies danced to the beat, clurichauns huddled around the coffee table passing around the bottle of whiskey Lexa brought back from their honeymoon, and a spattering of various mythics chatted while munching on popcorn.

“There you are!”

Arms draped around both Lexa and Clarke’s shoulders. “Where have you losers been? We’ve been waiting for hours! Echo almost closed up that portal three times!” Raven led them through the party, although party would be putting it mildly. Celebratory shindig seemed a more appropriate term.

“What? We only took a few minutes for ourselves.” Clarke turned to Lexa, her eyes narrow. “Did you mess with time again?”

“Not on purpose,” Lexa shrugged. “Sometimes, it just happens.”

“It’s so weird now that I’m aware of it,” Clarke snatched the bottle of whiskey from the clurichauns, causing a chorus of protest, but she didn’t let it stop her. “It used to be just this sweet little thing. Like, wow, I love her so much that I didn’t even realize we were having sex for three hours straight. But now I know you mess with time.”

As they made their way into the kitchen, Clarke grabbed three glasses, pouring whiskey into each.

“Wait, you have sex for three hours straight? How-”

“Not now, Raven,” Clarke passed her a glass before offering one to Lexa. Lexa accepted, grateful to have something to hide her blush behind.

“ _Not now, Raven?_ ” Raven gasped, placing her hand in mock offense to her chest. “Griff, I’m hurt. I was kidnapped for you. Held in a creepy shadowy realm thing for over a day! The least you can do is tell me how you managed to snag yourself a wife who can please you for three hours straight!”

“Hey, there is mutual pleasing going on,” Clarke raised her eyebrow before giving Raven a withering look. “And you know how I met her. That isn’t a secret.”

“That’s so not the point of this conversation.”

With a gentle touch to Clarke’s back, Lexa excused herself from the upcoming discussion and sought out a quiet place to just relax and enjoy her whiskey. She had almost made it to her office, her hand on the doorknob, when a firm hand pressed on her back.

“You doing okay?”

Lexa turned and wrapped her arms around her cousin’s shoulders, squeezing tight. “I can’t complain. It all worked out.”

“It did,” Anya held on for a moment longer before pulling away. She kept her hands on Lexa’s forearms, holding her in her watery gaze. Anya dipped her chin, and she didn’t need to say a word for Lexa to understand the apology. Anya was beating herself to pieces over what she intended to do on the battlefield.

“It’s okay,” Lexa pulled her back in, letting Anya cry silently into her shoulder. She wouldn’t mention it later. She knew Anya too well and determined to let her keep this part of her dignity intact.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lincoln poked his head around the corner. “But there’s a banshee who needs a little help in the healing department. Would you mind?”

Lexa threw her pointer finger in the air, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Go ahead. I’m fine,” Anya smiled. “Really, go be a hero. Again.”

Lexa rolled her eyes, and Anya landed a playful punch to her shoulder before Lexa followed Lincoln. A pretty young woman sat back in one of their dining room chairs, cradling her arm across her chest.

Lexa sat down, motioning for her to show her the injury.

“Dother. That mother fucker,” the woman winced. She extended her arm, and Lexa held back her surprise. The burn was deep and angry, worse than she’d ever seen.

“What happened?”

“Evil son of a bitch and his hellfire,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

Lexa nodded and placed both her hands delicately on the mangled flesh as they glowed. The magic pulsed around the skin, healing it as best she could, but a severe scar remained. 

“I’m sorry,” Lexa shook her head. “This is the best I can do… Looks like hellfire leaves a mark.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just grateful it doesn’t hurt anymore,” the woman smiled as she ran her fingers up and down the healed wound. “Guess I’ll just have a scar to go along with my tale of defeating Carman and her sons.”

“I’ve heard that people dig scars.”

Lexa whipped her head from the woman to the front door at the sound of banging. She sighed an apology and answered the door, careful to keep most of the mythical shenanigans hidden behind her.

“Hey, Murphy. What are you doing here?”

“Are you serious right now?” Murphy crossed his arms, but Lexa wasn’t easily intimidated. She just stared back at him, waiting for him to say his peace. “Come on. You’re clearing having a party and didn’t invite your dear friend and neighbor?”

“You’re sore because we didn’t invite you over?” Lexa laughed.

“I never said I was sore. It’s just-” he faltered- “I just…”

Lexa tilted her head to the side and took in a deep, exasperated breath. Murphy rolled his eyes and scoffed but finally slumped his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine. I was worried. There. I said it. Your house was broken into, and then the cops came and found nothing, and then all these weird noises were coming from over here, and I swear I heard busted doors and screaming the other day. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were hiding a magical world from me.”

His eyes widened as he stood on his tiptoes and peered over Lexa’s shoulder. “Is that a… was that a leprechaun?”

“Lexa?” the woman Lexa just healed pulled the door wide open, freezing when her eyes locked on Murphy. “Who are you?”

“Who are _you_?” Murphy grinned.

“Emori. Banshee.”

“John Murphy. Neighbor.” Murphy extended his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Emori reached out with her freshly scarred one and shook it.

“Badass,” Murphy turned her hand over in his, studying her skin. “How’d you get that scar?”

Lexa fought the urge to roll her eyes or scoff at the apparent flirting, and she certainly wasn’t about to subject herself to it any longer. “Emori, was there something you needed to tell me?”

“Hmm?” Emori finally tore her gaze from Murphy long enough to spit out a quick, “Oh, Clarke is looking for you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, her attention went straight back to Murphy.

“Oh, just come in already.” Lexa gripped Murphy’s collar and tugged him into the shindig. He stood, jaw on the floor as he truly took in the mythical sight. “Welcome to our world.”

Lexa left Murphy in Emori’s care and found Clarke standing next to the kitchen island in the loud company of the core group. She placed a quick kiss to Clarke’s lips before slipping behind her and wrapping her up.

“You were looking for me?” Lexa whispered before resting her chin on Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke nodded and pulled Lexa’s arms tighter around her middle. “I just wanted you close.”

“Now that we’re all together-” Echo smiled at the group.

“And alive-” Octavia added with a fist pump.

“With minimal scarring-” Raven called over the noise of the party.

“I think it’s time for a toast!” Anya finished. She set out seven shot glasses and filled them with whiskey.

“Before we toast,” Raven held up her glass. “I have one question. Clarke, where did you find the Sword of Light?”

“Yeah,” Octavia turned to Clarke. “How’d that conveniently appear in the middle of the battle?”

“Sorry,” Clarke sing-songed. “Griffin family secret.”

“Wait, does Lexa know?” Anya glared at Lexa, searching for a silent answer, but all Lexa could do was smirk and shrug. “Why does she get to know?”

“She’s a Griffin,” Lincoln raised his glass knowingly towards Lexa.

Lexa clinked her shot with his. “Griffin-Woods.”

“Damn right, darlin’,” Clarke turned and placed a wet kiss to Lexa’s lips.

“Fine,” Raven huffed, breaking them apart. “Don’t tell us. But you can bet your ass that I will get it out of you one day. One day, when you least expect it, I’m going to-”

“Humbly accept that there are just some things that you are never going to know?” Lexa stared at Raven, daring her to argue. After a tense few seconds of Raven glaring at every single person in the circle, she slumped her shoulders, defeated.

Anya cleared her throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “I don’t really do grand gestures, but I decided to make this one exception.” She raised her glass into the air, took a deep breath in, and thundered, “To the Griffin-Woods women and saving the world!”

“That’s it?” Clarke marveled at Anya. “That’s your grand gesture?”

“What?” Anya shrugged. “I thought it was sweet.”

“You could at least add a little fanfare,” Lexa agreed with Clarke.

“I’m not the mythical one here. I’ll leave that to them.” Anya shot a pointed look across the island to Lincoln who just hid behind Octavia, and Echo who rolled her eyes.

Echo shook her head and muttered something under her breath. Tiny fireworks exploded above them, lighting the kitchen in a beautiful yellow glow.

“To the Griffin-Woods women and saving the world!” Anya repeated with her glass in the air.

A chorus of “cheers” and “sláinte” erupted around them as every single person in their house turned to celebrate with them.

As Anya lifted her drink to her mouth, Clarke snatched it out of thin air, downing it in a second while handing Anya hers.

“Like I’m going to trust you to pour my drink ever again,” Clarke shrugged.

Anya smirked that fair enough smirk and shot back Clarke’s whiskey.

The party raged around them, and the group slowly dispersed from the kitchen save Clarke and Lexa.

“So,” Clarke turned and wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck, pulling her close. “I’ve been thinking.”

“You have?” Lexa tilted her head as Clarke twirled a loose strand of unbraided hair in her fingers. Lexa grasped Clarke’s hips, letting her body sing as they touched.

“Yep, and I think that it’s high time you upheld your promise, Mrs. Griffin-Woods.”

“And what promise is that?” Lexa breathed out as Clarke pressed feather-light kisses to her exposed neck.

“The one where you assured me that we could have our fun later.” Her breath was hot against Lexa’s skin, and it shot a wave of goosebumps down her spine.

“Are you sure that was a promise?” Lexa fluttered her eyes shut.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Clarke untangled her hand from Lexa’s neck and slowly slid it down, tracing her collarbone, catching on the buttons of Lexa shirt, and finally stopping at the waistband of her jeans. “And it is later.”

“You know,” Lexa swallowed. “I think you may be right. And what kind of wife would I be if I broke promises to the love of my life?”

“A horrible one, really,” Clarke grinned.

“Then I suppose we should keep me an honest woman.”

As the couple left the raucous party, neither one noticed their mythical guests smirking as they not so subtly snuck hand in hand upstairs. Neither Clarke nor Lexa paid any attention to Anya rolling her eyes and slapping a twenty into Raven’s smug palm. And neither woman minded that everyone could probably hear them making out as they barreled through their bedroom door (which Lexa was sure to lock this time). They did save the world, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been told that I should reveal how the story came to be, so here you go!  
> I was kind of bored a few months ago and decided to pick 31 random prompts, some of them dialogue found on tumblr, some of them dialogue from my head, some of them scenes I thought would be fun, arrange them in no particular order and write one prompt a day for the entire month of May and have it be a cohesive story by the end.
> 
> And there you have it. The Mythics was born because I was bored and wanted a slightly masochistic challenge!
> 
> Thanks for reading this wild little story.
> 
> Until next time,  
> EMM


End file.
